Breaking
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: It happens every year, but this year, she can't hide it.
1. Chapter 1

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER ONE**

Battling the Unseen Ghosts

. . . . .

She couldn't breathe.

Her chest was painfully tight as she tried to suck in air, the world blurry around her. Her eyes flew open, completely unseeing as she felt her fist clench in her blanket.

_Damn it_.

Her eyes slammed closed again as she forced herself to try and steady her breathing, to focus on something other than the sheer panic racing through her nerves and her blood. She deliberately focused on her hand, on unclenching the fabric of her comforter from her own white-knuckled grip. A shanky hand brushed damp tendrils of dark-brown curls from her sweaty forehead as she tried to focus on something – anything – else.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Remind yourself it's not real.

But the nausea was already creeping up her throat. The hyperventilation she couldn't get under control acting as a vacuum. With a whimper, she threw herself out of bed and stumbled towards her ensuite, just making it to the bathroom before her stomach totally revolted. She was lightheaded and knew she was on the verge of passing out if she couldn't managed to get the retching and harsh breathing under control.

But she was so out of control. She couldn't focus, couldn't bring herself back. Her chest burned as she rested her forehead on the toilet seat. She forced herself to suck in a breath despite the fear and the helplessness and count to three before releasing it. She repeated the process until the lightheadedness passed and she felt like she could lift her head without collapsing. God, she hated this.

Panic attacks.

They weren't new, but she hadn't had them since she was fifteen.

Since her father's death.

She felt her stomach stop rolling and tentatively raised her head. When she didn't immediately bend over the toilet again, she took it as a sign and twisted until she could rest against the wall. The burning in her chest eased as her breathing returned to a more normal pace. The ensuing headache, however, wasn't a shock. The adrenaline was wearing off and with it, the dehydration from the sweat, the sticky tears she could feel on her face and her date with the proverbial porcelain throne.

Finally, she felt human enough to push herself up and stumble to the sink, reaching for her toothbrush. She refused to look at herself in the mirror as she went about ridding her mouth of the acid taste. Then she braced herself against the counter.

She felt the tears continue to punch at the back of her eyes as she stared at the plain white of her sink. Jesus. She didn't look up as she reached for her medicine cabinet, knocking things to the counter with a crash she ignored before finally locating her bottle of painkillers. She managed, even with trembling hands, to tip two into her palm. She dry-swallowed two of them as she headed out into the kitchen. She moved on autopilot as she filled the electric teakettle, then moved to the window. The waves she could see crashing on the beach usually soothed her tired brain, but this time… Instead, she jumped when the kettle screeched, and she shook herself and made her tea.

When her phone rang at five AM, she was still awake, staring at the infomercial flickering on her television. She took a deep breath and reached for the device.

Maybe work would help.

* * *

G Callen always had a lot on his mind. It was a mess of aliases, of watching of his shoulder and keeping his head in the game. But just because his brain was a mess, didn't mean that he missed things. And he hadn't missed the days on the calendar, nor his 'favourite agent's' increasing… God, he didn't even know what to call it. He knew what time of year it was though, and he knew that it was the time of year Kensi Blye found the hardest to deal with. He'd gone to Hetty once, to ask about it. Callen knew Kensi had lost her father and that it still haunted her.

Now, as she came to a stop beside him, leaning against the table, her soft scent wafting into his nose, he could see the deep sadness in them. Kensi was his upbeat girl, the one he could always count on for a smile and a snarky comment. But this woman wasn't the Kensi he was used to. The sadness didn't shock him, but it did tear at him a little.

Eric, noticing Kensi's arrival and ignoring everything else, launched into his intro.

"Meet Captain Mary-Beth Freund," the tech said, tapping a few buttons and pulling up photos of a woman in her dress blues. Red stained the dark material and even darker shade and leaked all over a gorgeous marble floor. "She was found early this morning in an LA hotel. She'd been stabbed."

"We're here, at six in the morning, because of a stabbing?"

"Not quite," Eric replied, completely disregarding the obvious disbelief and annoyance in the voice of Detective Marty Deeks. "Captain Freund's death has been linked to seven other stabbings across the continental US, all military officers, all women, all very, very dead." He pulled up the DMV photos.

"Serial killer," Callen's voice held no emotion, but he shifted, leaning just a fraction closer to Kensi. They played this game every year, where Kensi would pull away and the team would just pull her back. He was willing to start early, especially since it was only the dark of the ops room that really hid the shadows that had been forming under her eyes for the last few weeks.

"Where?" Agent Sam Hanna inquired, hands stroking his chin as he leaned on Callen's other side.

"New York, Norfolk, Jacksonville, Millington, Kingsville, and Fallon," Eric replied, bringing up a map and highlighting each city along the way. "And Commander Erica Sutter, killed in San Diego two weeks ago."

"Eric, are these in chronological order?" Callen inquired. Kensi still hadn't said a word, and it wasn't like her. He slid his gaze her way as Eric typed on his wireless keyboard. She was chewing her thumbnail, arms folded across her body and a far-off look on her face. She was completely zoned and that was both terrifying and worrying at the same time. He didn't want to bench her.

"They are," Eric confirmed. "Over a two year period. We have the go-ahead from the other agencies to take point since we're assuming he's still hunting within our jurisdiction."

"He traveled across the country," Sam murmured.

"And the rhetorical question everyone's asking but no one's saying is: why?" Deeks said, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table.

Callen's gaze flicked to Kensi again, his hackles rising because she _still _hadn't spoken, then back to the screen. "Sam, take Deeks and look at the crime scene. Eric, get me information on personnel stationed in each city over the last two years, see if you can find a match. Kensi and I'll take the cases from the other cities, familiarize ourselves with the past." When Sam shot him a disgusted look, he offered an innocent smile, darting his gaze to Kensi's profile. "Oh, and try not to kill each other."

Sam's almost imperceptable nod told Callen he understood. Deeks didn't know.

His face went serious when Deeks and Sam left, bickering the whole way. Eric turned back to his computer, digging, prying, pushing into the lives and investigations of the deaths of eight women. He turned to lean his hip against the table, facing his teammate's solemn, striking profile. "So, where should we start?"

Kensi didn't reply, just continued to stand, chewing her nail.

"Kens."

The sharp tone made her jump and her hand shook slightly when she dropped it. "Yeah?" She noticed him looking at her expectantly. "Sorry."

He caught the alarm in her eyes just seconds before she managed to hide it completely. Something was going on with her and it was different than the other years he'd seen it. She was more on edge than any other year and it made Callen itch. "Everything okay?"

Kensi seemed to shake herself, then turn toward him with a smile she'd obviously tried to paste on for his benefit. "I'm good." She glanced at the screen, at Eric's eight DMV photos, then back at Callen. "So, a serial killer?"

* * *

_Thought I'd take a crack at some LA stuff, even though I shouldn't start anything new. _

_Do me a favour and let me know if you think I should keep going?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER TWO**

Cornered

. . . . .

"Something's up with Kensi."

Sam didn't acknowledge Deeks' words as he drove towards their crime scene. Chances were the forensic team and the coroner would have already been through it by the time they arrived, but it was always good to get a feel for the place. It was easier to put themselves in the killer's shoes, experience what the killer did. And that got them a step closer to catching the guy.

"But seriously," Deeks continued, glancing over at Sam. "What is it? I mean, usually it's you and Callen coming out to do this."

"You complaining about being let out, Deeks?" Sam replied, probably a little harsher than he needed to. But Deeks rubbed him the wrong way, even if he had proven himself, and the last thing he wanted was for the LAPD detective to go hound Kensi. She was their girl, she was their teammate and they protected their own.

But Sam wasn't blind, nor was he completely stupid. He'd noticed Kensi over the last couple of weeks, identified the bags under her eyes that even her skilful touch couldn't hide. He'd seen her hide black eyes and dark bruises for a date with no problem but these… there was no disguising the sallow pallor and the far-away look. It looked like Kensi was being haunted. It always happened, every year like clockwork since he'd met her, and a drunken night during one of those times had led to her blurting out her father's death. He could understand that, the same way he could see it as the driving force behind her passion for what she did.

But that didn't make it easy. In fact, it often made it harder, and he could tell that there was something totally different about this time. Kensi was breaking before them, and while the notion scared Sam, he could only imagine what it was doing to Callen.

He'd been partners with Callen for over three years. He knew the man inside and out. So he knew that while Callen was the 'fix it' kind of guy, the hero complex that needed to save the damsel in distress, Kensi was no damsel. But Callen watched Kensi differently, paid a different kind of attention to her. And it wasn't the bad kind of attention, the one that demanded she prove herself and her ability to stay in the field. Kensi had their backs, there was no doubt in Callen's mind, Sam was sure, and there was absolute no doubt in his own.

"Of course I'm not complaining about going to a crime scene," Deeks said, breaking into his thoughts. "I'm just wondering if there's trouble in paradise."

Sam wanted to smirk. The guy, admittedly, had a sharp mouth on him, and he liked Deeks more than he let on. He was irritating, and a crappy liaison, but he'd proven himself in battle and he'd proven he could protect his team. That was enough for Sam, despite Deeks' penchant for playing the lone wolf. "We switch it up every once in a while. Keeps things interesting."

It was a lie, but Sam was too well versed in that particular skill for Deeks to catch it. This was another one of those annual things. Callen kept Kensi close for a couple of weeks until she levelled out, then it was back to business as usual. They'd been a team for a long time, long enough to work seamlessly and long enough to communicate through looks rather than words, and Sam didn't feel shafted by Callen's choice to routinely pair Kensi with him. So long as Callen and Kensi had back up they could count on, Sam didn't care what the partner scheme was.

Okay, he glanced at Deeks, that wasn't completely true. How had Kensi put up with him?

"It's top secret isn't it?" Deeks prodded. "She was on some sort of deep cover op that no one talks about."

Sam shot him an arched eyebrow.

"No?" the blond replied. "Okay, um… A case gone bad then. Drug deal? Terrorist attack."

Still, Sam kept silent. It wasn't his place to confirm or deny what Deeks thought – was - seeing. Kensi would tell him if she wanted to. For now, Sam knew she was safe in Callen's hands and almost smiled to himself. They were good together, when they let themselves just be, and he'd seen it a few times. He and Callen made an excellent team, there was no doubt about that, but Kensi completed their little unit.

They were family and while Deeks had proven himself in the field, Sam didn't feel like he'd proven himself worthy of any of their personal information.

And Kensi's yearly bout was too private, too personal, to use as a test.

Plus, if Deeks said a word about it to her, she'd probably shoot the liaison, then turn her gun on Sam. She was his sister, but she didn't hold back with him either.

"Huh. Okay," Deeks spoke when Sam's silence seemed to press in on him. "I get it. It's one of those team things, don't ask, don't tell."

That was something Sam was willing to acknowledge and he did, with a solemn stare as he pulled up to the hotel and the crime scene tape. "Yeah. So let's not talk about it."

"Uh, okay."

Sam faced him head on with a nasty gaze just before sliding under the tape. "Don't talk about it. Hear me?"

Deeks paused, taking in the larger man. "Yeah," he replied, knowing when to fold. "I hear you."

Sam nodded once. "Good. Now can we focus on the dead woman?"

And like that, the subject was closed.

* * *

Though Callen looked to all the world like he was concentrating on the case file in front of him, Kensi knew better. She knew _him_ better. He was watching her and trying to do it covertly.

"I think Hetty should send you on another undercover refresher," she said, flipping through the file. With Eric doing work in the ops room, both he and Kensi had opted for their desks and paper versions of the files. Eric had a tendency to mumble to himself while he worked.

"Maybe I just like watching you."

Kensi glanced up with a guffaw, meeting his very blue eyes with a raised eyebrow. Callen's eyes sparkled back at her, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. She rolled her eyes, going back to her file. She'd read three and they were all the same. They were all redheads, all average height and weight with exemplary records with nothing outstanding. As she closed the file and moved on, she shook her head. "You're _watching_ me."

Then he did the unexpected.

He dropped his feet from where they were propped on his desk, simultaneously closing his file. He leaned towards her, propping his elbows on his knees. "Do I have reason to?"

"Watch me?" Kensi asked, just a shade south of indignant.

If Callen had been the type to show his concerned exasperation, he would have. Instead, he held his gaze steady on hers. "You tell me."

Kensi merely folded her arms over her chest, then unfolded them when Nate's voice floated through her head about defensive postures. "Why would you need to?"

Callen noticed her shifting in her seat, but kept staring at her. He _knew_, she had to know that. She didn't have to lie to him, didn't have to hide. _Something_ was up with her, something big, something that went beyond just the time of year and something that was resulting in the lack of sleep and a makeup job that he could see through. And it wasn't nightmares. They all had nightmares and they all had coping mechanisms when the nightmares came. But Kensi hadn't been relying on her usual go-tos. Silence was not Kensi's forte, especially when she was having nightmares.

Finally, he relented. "Kens, talk to me."

"I'm fine," Kensi snapped, breaking the gaze and turning back to the files in front of her.

Callen wanted to push. He _really_ wanted to push. But he also knew that pushing her was more likely to shut her down. It didn't mean that he wasn't frustrated.

"My father died when I was fifteen," she said, surprising him. "It was… next week."

He didn't say anything, but stopped reaching for his next file.

"That's all." Kensi didn't want to say any more. It was painful enough as it was without having to relive it and it definitely wasn't something she talked about. She knew Hetty knew, and she'd told Nate over her dad's harmonica, but Callen and Sam… They would ask questions. Or so she'd assumed.

And there was absolutely no way she was _ever_ going to mention the panic attacks.

They were her own personal brand of hell. She couldn't stop them and they were her worst sign of weakness. She could vividly remember having one during her finals the year after her father died that had left her curled up on the floor of the bathroom after racing out of her classroom. Everyone had treated her like a crazy person about to snap. That had been her final straw and she'd found a psychologist. The only person she'd ever trusted with any substantial part of the story had been Nate. Heck, he was the only person since that psychologist that she'd let deep enough into her head to even glimpse things that deep.

She pushed herself away from her desk as her chest tightened. She was working herself up, she knew it, but she couldn't get out of it. She paced away from Callen. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell _anyone_. The best thing she could do for herself at this time of year was work and they'd bench her if she had the potential of freezing up for no apparent reason. And since Kensi had no idea about what triggered the panic attacks and couldn't anticipate them until she was in the throes of one, she never knew when and where it would hit.

Her breath came fast and harsh as she swung around the corner, sliding to the floor. The nice thing about the hacienda they now called ops was that it was utterly filled with nooks and crannies. She closed her eyes, dropping her head to her knees.

She could fail them. That's what it came down to. She could get someone shot, she could be responsible for their kidnapping. She could lose it, and someone could end up dead. Her heart rate spiked and her stomach dropped as she considered the scenarios.

"Kens."

Her mind flashed to Dom, to the crime scene photos of her father's death, to Dom's funeral, then her father's all in rapid succession. It was coming again. She could feel it and nothing could change her focus.

"Kens."

There were hands on her shoulders, strong, urging her backwards. Her chest burned as she struggled to take in air, as sweat and tears mingled on her cheeks. She refused to open her eyes, to face him.

"Jesus, Kensi, breathe."

God, she _hated_ that. She _couldn't_ breathe, couldn't he see that? She couldn't breathe, couldn't stop shaking. She couldn't _think_. She couldn't do anything.

"Kensi, look at me."

It was the harsh order more than anything else that had her eyes flying open. Those blues met hers, strict and strong. With supreme effort, she battled the fear, the panic, to suck in a deep breath. She released it after three beats, then repeated the process.

Callen watched it all stoically. Her eyes were wild, her skin very pale and sweaty. Never in his time working with Kensi had he ever seen her like this. He counted her next inhale, hands moving to support himself on her knees. When her breathing was back to resembling normal, he touched her cheek to get her attention, asking the only logical question, "What do you need?"

Nothing. It was on the tip of her tongue, along with some shred of humour, some sort of deflection, but neither came. Her chest hurt, her head hurt, and her pride definitely hurt. "Tea."

She dropped her head back against the wall when he nodded and left, swearing at herself in every language she knew. She was done for. He was going to bench her, to tell her to take some time off, to talk to someone.

He offered her a mug when he returned and Kensi was surprised to note the teabag was decaf.

"You're still shaking," Callen offered in explanation, taking a seat beside her.

She blew out a breath, delicately setting down the tea. She'd have to wait until her hands were steady before drinking it. They sat in silence, Kensi refusing to even look at her companion.

Callen wasn't so patient. "Was it something I said?"

It was enough to startle a laugh out of her, a sound they both revelled in for a moment.

She knew she was backed into a proverbial corner. While Callen would respect her wishes if she told him she didn't want to talk about it, she knew that as her team leader and teammate, she owed him an explanation.

"I can't control them," she began slowly, tracing random patterns on her knee. "They're panic attacks. I can't focus on anything except the problem and I can't solve the problem unless I step away from it. Sometimes the problem's not even real."

To his credit, Callen kept quiet. It was obvious that this was difficult for her and if he wanted to know, if he wanted to be able to help her, he would have to keep his mouth shut until she finished.

"I don't get them anymore. Didn't, I guess," she continued. "Not really. There's… coping mechanisms and… ways to avoid it but…"

He waited. When she didn't say anymore he spoke. "They started a few weeks ago?"

Kensi laughed mirthlessly, banging her head gently against the wall. "That obvious?"

Callen reached out, squeezing her hand, then retracting his. "To those that know you?"

"Ha," she said, wiping a palm against her face. "So… I take it Sam knows too?"

"That this time of year is difficult," he replied, shifting the smallest bit until his shoulder rested against hers. She'd scared the crap out of him and though he didn't show it, he was certainly still feeling it. "Details are up to you."

Kensi blew out a breath. "Thanks Callen."

They stayed there for a few more minutes, until Kensi stopped shaking and sipped her tea. Then she blew out a breath, wrapping both hands around the ceramic. "I can still do my job," she said. She turned, meeting his gaze.

Callen, for his part, could see everything in her eyes. Her walls weren't back yet, she wasn't guarding anything. It was humbling and disconcerting; the former because Kensi was always guarded and the latter because the fear, trepidation and vulnerability was completely open to him. "Maybe you shouldn't."

Her eyes hardened and there was a brief glimpse of the pre-panic attack Kensi Blye. "Don't bench me."

"Don't want to," he replied with a deceptively nonchalant shrug. He looked at her. "Don't make me."

* * *

_Kay, know when you start writing a chapter and it gets out of hand? Yeah, that's what happened. Kensi and Callen took on a life of their own. Having said that, I have absolutely no intention of leaving Kensi as solely a vulnerable damsel. She's not. It's why I love her. _

_Second, it's always fun to embed things. Lots of underlying stuff in this chapter that I had a blast writing. _

_Third. 30 reviews? Well, almost, but pretty much. Seriously? You guys are beyond awesome, especially for someone who just started writing for LA. The characters are more complicated in that we know stuff about them, but not enough. Just enough to make it frustrating to remember that they have pasts and they have things that have happened in the show. Yeesh. Point though, is that I love you guys and you guys are so great. It's nice to know that you guys are really enjoying this. _

_I shouldn't have worked on this, really. My CM one was up next, but then Kensi and Callen's scene came to me, and while I was doing that Sam and Deeks... How was I supposed to argue? That mixed with the amazing feedback? How could I resist?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER THREE**

Meddling

. . . . .

When Sam and Deeks called to say the hotel hadn't given them a witness or a lead, Callen volunteered himself and Kensi for the search of the captain's apartment. But on the way, Callen made a stop, pulling into a drive-thru. Kensi rolled her head on the headrest to face him.

"Doughnuts, Callen?"

He shrugged. "I'm feeling peckish." He shot her a glance. "But you're only allowed decaf."

She pouted for a split second before rolling her eyes. "Fine. But then I get sprinkles."

Callen bit down on his smile. It was comforting to know that the snarky Kensi he missed was still there, even if she was hiding deep. "You drive a hard bargain."

"And you're trying to buy me comfort food," she accused.

"Now that's not true," Callen denied as he pulled up to the window. He ordered, then faced her again. "You get cranky when your blood sugar's low. I'm just making the afternoon run smoothly."

Kensi rolled her eyes but didn't protest. After all, she'd given in and demanded sprinkles. Sprinkle doughnuts were comfort food and though she definitely felt better – and she was pretty sure at least a part of that was from telling Callen – she had to admit she was glad he was stopping for it. But more than that, she was glad that he really wasn't benching her, that she was out of the office. She accepted the pastry and decaf coffee with a smile of thanks, then pulled apart the doughnut into bite-sized pieces.

It didn't surprise her that Callen made the stop. They all took care of each other, but Callen had a habit of taking on more than his fair share of the responsibility for the well-being of his team. It was as infuriating as it was endearing. And right now, she couldn't decide which side he fell on. The last thing Kensi wanted was to be babied because of something she couldn't control. She could do the job, she could still hold her own and she didn't need Sam and Callen looking over her shoulder. She didn't want them to.

Because Kensi Blye was independent to a fault. She'd had to be. After her father's death she'd been largely on her own. She was used to taking care of herself. But Callen and Sam were both used to taking care of others. When she'd first started with the boys, it had taken some getting used to and she'd been totally off kilter for a good portion of six months. Though she'd proven herself more than once and was sure they both trusted her in the field, it had taken her a long time to get used to things like Sam and Callen insisting on going in first when they had to draw weapons. She'd slowly learned it had nothing to do with protecting her, and everything to do with just who they were. She closed her eyes briefly, telling herself this was the same.

This was Callen looking out for his team, taking care of his own.

And surprised herself with the pleasant shiver that raced through her at the thought.

Callen caught it. "Tell me shivers are not a symptom."

"Shivers are not a syndrome," Kensi parroted back with a roll of her eyes. "Maybe it's caffeine deprivation."

"Caffeine makes you jittery," he responded swiftly, turning a smooth corner onto a small residential street. He shot her a look. "And that's on a good day."

She made a face and a big show of popping the last bite of the doughnut in her mouth. He scowled at her smirk. She always shared her last bite with him, especially when he bought.

"It's good to share Kens," he scolded.

She checked Eric's text for the address, then the houses along the way. "I don't share with jerks," she murmured back before pointing. "That one."

Callen pulled to a quick, efficient and skilled stop next to the white-washed house with green shutters. He met Kensi at the curb and they paused to look at the impeccably manicured lawn and lush gardens.

"Think she does the upkeep herself?" Kensi asked as they headed up the walk. From her jean pocket she withdrew a small evidence bag. The forensic unit had shipped the captain's personal effects to their office, including her keys.

"Oh, now that's just lazy," Callen scolded as she broke the seal and pulled out the keys.

"No, it's logical," she argued back. "There's no reason to pick the lock when we have the key.

"It's lazy," he repeated. "How do you keep your skills in shape if you don't practice them?"

"You boys don't let me play with the lock picks unless you think it'll take me forever to unlock the door," she shot back, sorting through the myriad of keys. Gym, car, desk keys… "Ah ha." She slid the key into the lock, smiling in satisfaction when it clicked.

"I'm not going to ask how you figured that out," he said, nudging her out of the way and absently drawing his weapon.

She rolled her eyes, but followed him and his example, drawing her own gun. They took a quick tour around the house to ensure everything was clear before diving in. Kensi took the small nook of an office off the bedroom while Callen went back to the main floor. They worked for twenty minutes, Kensi moving on to pawing through Mary-Beth Freund's drawers before she found anything. She was digging through one of the two smaller top drawers of the dresser when her hand bumped against what turned out to be a small USB key.

"Our good captain was a secret squirrel," she called out.

He was there in a blink, taking the key from her hand. "What is it?"

"No idea. But she had a new boyfriend."

She craned her neck to find Callen turning the small flash drive in his hands and looking at her with an arched eyebrow.

"Now who's ruining the fun?" she asked almost sarcastically. She reached back into the drawer, withdrawing a bra, white cups accented by the black-lace overlay and black straps. She shot an innocent look at the man standing over her. "This isn't the type of thing you buy for yourself just because."

Callen's other eyebrow rose.

"Look," she said, waving to the rest of the drawer of plain, serviceable cotton. "And-" She flipped over the bra. "The tags are still attached."

"So she didn't have the chance to wear it." His brow wrinkled, but his eyes sparkled. "Use it?"

Kensi rolled her eyes, straightened and snatched the drive all in one swift, smooth move. She bit down on her smirk at the quick flash of surprise she caught darting across his face. She loved the fact that he sold her short every once in a while. It had become a game, and, in this instance, a thread of normalcy she clung to with both hands.

She waved the flashdrive. "Let's go give Eric his presents."

* * *

While Eric looked through Captain Mary-Beth Freund's electronic life and footprint, Callen and Sam headed for the boathouse and a couple that had claimed they were as good as family to their deceased officer. That left Kensi and Deeks back in ops and while Kensi usually took Deeks' poking and prodding in stride, it got on her nerves quickly considering everything she was going through. She needed a break and so, had stolen away, finding one of the many quiet corners of the hacienda. The widow ledge was solid underneath her, and the wall cool against her back as she watched the sun set over the LA landscape.

"Do we have our serial killer in custody, Miss Blye?"

Kensi jumped and almost fell off the windowsill. "Hetty. Uh… no," she responded. "I um… It's just…"

The diminuitive woman held up a hand, stalling Kensi's stuttering. "Sometimes the memory's the hardest part."

Kensi smiled and shook her head. She should have known better than to think Hetty was oblivious to what was going on. "I don't know, Hetty. I mean…"

"When things get difficult, we turn to those who care the most," Hetty said wisely. "You are an integral part of this team, Miss Blye, and as an integral part of this team, they worry."

"I'm okay."

"But, Kensi," and the agent jumped at the use of her given name, "you need to remember that you are not alone."

That made Kensi pause. "What?"

Hetty stepped closer. "_Tell him everything_."

"Tell who?" Kensi inquired. There was no way Hetty could know she and Callen had already talked, about how much she wanted to just unload on him if the consequences weren't so concerning. But the slightly offended look on Hetty's face told the agent that she _really_ needed to stop underestimating what the operations manager knew.

"Looking for help doesn't make you weak. Asking for help doesn't destroy you. Talk to him, Kensi."

The brunette found herself shaking her head as Hetty walked away. She returned to looking out the window. It was never as easy as Hetty made it out to be. The things she would be sharing were _personal_ and even if she wanted to tell Callen everything, she didn't want to undermine what the team believed of her. Her thumb came up to her mouth as she chewed on her nail. But that didn't mean that it wasn't a tempting thought. She was a personal person, but sometimes locking everything up was more of a detriment than helpful.

"You really need to stop hiding in dark corners. Deeks was about to send out a search party."

Kensi rolled her eyes at the man who stepped close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body against her side. "It was either hide or murder Deeks." Well, that and the poking was inducing the chest tightening that prefaced a panic attack. The poking made her think of the attacks, which made her think of her dad, of Dom and that… well, it stowballed from there.

Callen stepped closer, his chest pushing slightly against her shoulder. "Turns out Freund moved here a month ago."

Which told her that the couple hadn't told them anything they didn't already know. She tilted her head back to look at him. "Let me guess," she began with a smile flirting across her mouth.

"You got it," he replied with a smirk, not bothering to let her add her guess. "Fallon, Nevada."

"That's where the sixth victim was killed," Kensi responded, already twisting on the windowsill.

He grinned. "Exactly." He cocked his head to the side. "I believe that is what we call a lead."

She echoed his grin. "I like leads."

"What a coincidence," Callen said as they started off in tandem, "so do I."

* * *

_I don't like this one as much as the other ones, but what can you do? Sometimes, it just needs to happen. I've had other NCIS LA bubbles wandering my head too and school work up my rear end. I'm HOPING to get the next chapter up within the next 10-15 reviews (which, with you guys, is like 24 hours), but I make no guarantees. I'd rather post something of quality than posting for the sake of posting. And I still have to figure out where to end it! Which, yes, is necessary in order to figure out the steps to get there.  
_

_And I know this is my story and all, but does anyone else read Freud instead of Freund? As someone who took psychology I still chuckle. I named the bloody woman!  
_

_Still, you guys are fantastic! I tried to get back to everyone, but if I didn't get back to you, I still appreciate the fact that you took the time to review and I hope you continue to do so! _


	4. Chapter 4

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Constant

. . . . .

She was a living roller coaster. One minute she was the usual, playful, snarky woman that more often than not, outright amused him. The next, she was quiet, withdrawn, antsy… almost exactly how she described herself when going on a second date. It was a night-and-day transformation and almost as terrifying as watching her in the throes of that panic attack.

He'd sent everyone home after their chat with Captain Freund's CO from NAS Fallon. Deeks and Eric had headed out without having to be asked twice, both of them nattering on about gulls and swells. Sam had gone home too, but not before pinning Callen with a significant look and then darting his gaze to Kensi. Kensi had disappeared. But considering his last twelve-plus hours with the brunette, it didn't take a genius to figure out the most likely place she would have gone. He hadn't been able to head Deeks off, nor stop him from continually poking at Kensi, at least not without drawing attention to the fact that there was a problem to begin with. He'd watched as her temper frayed around the edges. Kensi was nothing if not controlled, calm and cool, but he could see in her eyes the shift and change as Deeks continued to needle her. She was the first one to scatter once the call was finished and they'd consolidated their notes, but she wasn't difficult to find.

And yet, when he did find her, back on that window ledge he'd pulled her from a few hours before, he'd just stood there. It was scary how fragile she looked, curled in a ball, her shoes lying on the floor beside her. Kensi wasn't fragile and never had been. Not to Callen, and those times the façade had shifted, it had been because they'd all been going through the same torture. To him, she was always strong. It had been what had drawn him to her in the first place, what made them such a complementary team when they needed to go undercover. She wasn't the type of person to fade under pressure and that was one of the main reasons he trusted her with his life.

She'd always exuded a confidence he almost envied, one of someone who knew who she was and knew the person she was, was predicated on what she'd been through. She was the woman she was because of her history, not despite of it. She took the good and the bad and turned it into strength. He'd seen her do it too many times to count and every time she bounced back, he impressed her just a little bit more.

But this…

He imagined this was what she would have been like just after her father's death, when everything was falling apart around her. A teenaged Kensi would have been devastated and probably just as lost. And it didn't take Nate to understand why. When you lost someone, when you didn't have control over the situation or your life… well, hyper-vigilance became synonymous with survival. So he could understand Kensi's absent look. The control was out of her hands. And she couldn't change that.

Neither could he, which bothered him more than he'd like to admit. There were time that he had no control, like when a mission went south and he hadn't predicted it. But even then, if his people were there, he had the option of ordering them out, of helping them, of making sure they were safe. But he didn't know how to help Kensi through this. He couldn't. And it was _killing_ him.

"I know you're there."

The smile was involuntary and flickering. "I thought I told you to go home."

Kensi didn't turn from whatever she was looking at, even as he moved closer, his steps echoing in the empty hall. He noticed her thumb rubbing a medal he'd never seen before. But he could guess whose it was. Instead of commenting on it, he simply followed her gaze out the window, standing at her feet.

"Something about the skyline is always soothing," he said after a few minutes of comfortable if charged silence.

She glanced down at the medal, then back out the window. "I grew up an army brat," she began quietly. "We moved from base to base with my dad's assignments. There wasn't much consistency except the moving, but every night, my dad came home and we'd go outside and watch the stars until I fell asleep. Even if there were no stars, my dad used to tell me stories about where the stars went. Every Friday he'd take me up to the highest point outside wherever we were living and we'd watch the skyline until I fell asleep." She sucked in a breath. "When he died… it was all I had."

Her constant.

"For a while, it helped. Then, when the case stayed open, when they didn't catch the guy, the nightmares started, then the panic attacks…" She shook her head. "Sometimes, it still works. Sometimes, everything is just too much."

Callen knew he had to think carefully and choose his words wisely. "You wouldn't be normal if it didn't get to you now and again."

"Yeah," she said with a heavy sigh. She looked up with an apologetic smile. "That doesn't help."

He moved, nudging Kensi's feet until he could perch on the sill. He almost jolted when she proceeded to tuck her toes under his thigh. But she barely reacted to the contact and he vaguely wondered if she just needed the contact. He wasn't a touchy-feely person by nature, though admittedly and considering some of their undercover assignments that threshold was much lower where Kensi was concerned, but if she needed it…

Hell, right now, and looking at her lost, sad expression, Callen was willing to do just about anything. They sat in silence, Callen watching Kensi blatantly. He could be patient. He could wait for her to talk again, since she seemed in such a sharing mood. She would shut down if he stepped in, so he stayed silent.

"My dad was just the beginning." She wiggled her toes under his leg. Then she spared him a smile. "Loss is never easy. No matter how many times you go through it."

He surprised himself by reaching out and covering her hand with his. Her thumb stuttered on the medal before she tucked it firmly under his palm.

"I lost…" She stalled.

Despite the awkward twist of his body that he'd had to do to grip her hand, Callen stayed still.

"I met Jack after my dad died. I spent a lot of time at my best friend's house because it was comfortable and constant. Katie's family was always warm and always had their arms open for stragglers like me."

He couldn't stop his chuckle, the same way he couldn't stop his thumb from brushing over her wrist. Their hands shifted and the medal fell into her lap as he fully enveloped her hand. "Katie and Kensi."

"Yeah," she laughed slightly, briefly. "We got teased about that all the time." She looked down at their hands, seemingly unsurprised to find them entwined. "Anyway, Jack was her brother's best friend. He had a rough house, so he spent all his time with Scott. Then…" She shrugged. "One day, Jack wasn't just Katie's brother's best friend."

He felt her squeeze his hand.

"We'd been dating about a year when he enlisted, the day he turned eighteen. It was a couple of years before it happened. It was a drill. Routine, you know?"

"Except Jack didn't come back." He said it, but knew he didn't have to. He'd always known there was more to Kensi, more to the reason she drove up to Pendleton every weekend.

"We were thinking about getting married."

That stopped Callen cold.

But Kensi laughed awkwardly, oblivious to his reaction. "And then… then he wasn't there." She'd been holding back tears, and he hadn't noticed until the spilled over, one trailing down her cheek. "I grieved and… I cried and screamed…" She wiped her nose with the back of the hand that wasn't holding Callen's. "But I had Katie and I had Scott, and they were family. They helped me through it, watched me closely, the kind of thing you do when you've watched your friend fall apart and don't want to do it again."

The rest he could put together. He knew about her old partner, and he'd experienced the loss of Dom with her. Death made up her life, and explained why she did what she did. She was a federal agent to give closure to those who couldn't get it themselves. And she chose undercover work because it allowed her to be everyone she wasn't.

But the person she was… well this just made him think more of her.

And made him want to help her even more.

He paused for only a split second. Then he tugged her hand. "Let's go."

"Go where?" she asked, even as she let him tug her to her feet.

He only paused for a split second because that was all it took for him to make the decision. He met her gaze seriously and with the concern he was feeling. "I've got the perfect spot watch the skyline."

* * *

_I don't know how I feel about this one. Really and truly. Granted, we're no where close to finished yet, so no worries on that front, but there's a part of me that's scolding myself for moving this too fast. Nevertheless, better this than a useless chapter that doesn't move the story along, right? _

_So let me know how you feel about it and maybe I can figure out why it's bugging me? I'd love you all for it._


	5. Chapter 5

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Stories

. . . . .

Kensi had been every place was physically possible in LA to see the skyline and the stars, but she was honestly surprised that he knew of a nice little spot off of Muholland to watch the lights. In any other situation, Kensi would consider it romantic. But this wasn't about romance. It was about comfort. Still, she moved with him when he climbed out of the car and pulled a blanket out of his trunk. When he climbed up on the hood of the car and waved her up, she arched an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "I move around a lot."

"You have a house," she shot back, but climbed up on the hood with him and wrapped the blanket around her legs. He took the other half and she could feel his thigh pressing against her own. She sighed. "I've been here."

"So?" he replied with a cheeky smile. "Are you going to argue with me that this is the best place to see the city?"

She'd been had, and she crossed her arms. "No."

They sat in silence for a while and Kensi felt herself relaxing completely. Between the air, the lights, the stars and knowing she was safe with Callen, there was nothing else for her to do.

"Did you ever learn the constellations?"

The question was so honestly curious that Kensi looked over at him. She often forgot that his childhood was full of moving and shifting and never really finding a place to call home. Things that she took for granted, the things she used to do with Jack and Katie and her dad Callen had never had the opportunity to experience.

"Yeah," she answered finally, softly.

"Your dad?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. I taught myself. My dad used to test me whenever we went out to see the stars, so I got books and books out of the library until I learned them all." She pointed off to the left. "That's the Hydra. The second labour of Hercules."

Callen leaned in, following her finger.

"For every head Hercules cut off, the hydra grew two to replace it. He had to turn to the help of his friend Iolaus to burn the stumps after Hercules cut the heads off so they couldn't grow back."

He searched the sky, not really looking for anything and pointed. "What about there?"

She leaned in to follow the line of his finger and laughed. "There's nothing there, G. But," She shifted his hand to the right slightly and her breath raised goosebumps on his arm. "There's Corona Borealis. It's the crown Dionysus gave to Ariadne when he married her. She originally fell in love with Theseus, who killed the Minotaur, before Dionysus fell in love with her and had Theseus abandon her on an island. The story is that he placed her crown in the sky when she died." She looked over, feeling his gaze warm on her neck.

"You read the horoscopes in the morning, don't you?" he inquired with a playful narrowing of his eyes.

"Me? Horoscopes? Uh, no," she replied with a laugh.

"Then why the interest in myths?"

She thought for a moment, then sighed. She'd already told Callen all about her dad. And hadn't Hetty pushed her to start talking to Callen to begin with? "My dad used to quiz me," she responded, her head falling to his shoulder without thought. Their hands had fallen when Kensi started telling the story of Corona Borealis and rested mere centimetres from each other on the blanket. "He used to point out a group of stars and ask me which constellation it was." She shrugged. "Now its second nature."

They sat in silence for a few moments and Kensi lost herself in thoughts of her father. He'd been her rock for most of her life, a constant that she'd dearly needed. She didn't talk about her mother, but then again, her dad hadn't talked about her either. For as long as Kensi could remember, it had always just been her and her dad. And then...

"Hey." His voice was a low murmur. His hand grasped hers tightly as she came back to herself and she realized, belatedly, she'd started hyperventilating. God, she couldn't even _think_ of her dad without potentially inducing a panic attack, and that idea _hurt_.

"Kens."

She sucked in a breath, then another one, focusing on the way Callen gripped her hand tightly in his, in the strength of his shoulder beneath her head. She swallowed back tears and her voice was choked when she said, "Distract me?"

He seemed to scramble for a moment. "Tell me about another constellation."

So she did. She told him about Orion, then Pavo and Aquila before she felt calm and centered. Then she let go of his hand and curled her knees up, folding her arms over her kneecaps and resting her head on her arms. She wasn't surprised when he said nothing, just sat there, waiting. Sometimes she valued it. Right now, she didn't know what to think.

It was the third time she'd broken down in front of him, completely or partially. He was her team leader, for God's sake and she couldn't understand why today, why now, why on earth this all had to be hitting her at once leaving her so debilitated and paralyzed. She was no good to most of the world, let alone to a team of federal agents. And the fact that he wasn't saying anything or doing anything wasn't doing much of anything to help her calm herself down or reassure her that everything was going to be okay. In fact, it was making it worse.

Then there was a slight tug on the strands of her hair. She looked up, dry eyed, but aware it still showed on her face. He looked to the sky, then back to her. He cocked his head to the side, blue eyes serious and as sympathetic as G Callen could ever be.

"Teach me."

* * *

When Kensi woke up, she was sore and stiff, but warm. It surprised her, to be honest, but more because she was sore. She knew her bed never left her this achy and she'd slept on the couch too many times for that to be it. Which meant she was in neither of those places.

She bolted upright and then blinked at the _very _bright sun that greeted her.

"Good morning."

She blinked and looked to the cliff's edge. Callen stood there, looking back at her, his eyes too blue in the morning sun.

She cleared her throat. "Hey." She dropped her head to her knees.

"We fell asleep," he told her, regardless of the fact that he didn't have to. "Well, you did."

"Then how the hell are you so awake?" she asked groggily.

He grinned, and she knew whatever was coming next, she probably wasn't going to like it. "You snore."

She glared. "That's a non-answer."

He shrugged. Then absently kicked his toe in the dirt. "How are you?"

She thought about it, hard, carefully. She should have had a panic attack, should have freaked out when she found that she'd slept on the hood of a car, but she hadn't. She could have been anywhere, but the moment she'd realized she was with Callen, the panic had receded.

"Sore," she admitted. "But… good."

He nodded, then came back over towards her. She took the opportunity to slide off the hood and was surprised when she found herself almost flush against his front. Her heartrate spiked, though she was almost positive it had nothing to do with a panic attack. There was a spark of heat that threaded through her blood, and it took her off-guard enough that she had to clear her throat before speaking.

"What?" It was disconcerting to have him staring at her.

"Just checking," he said. "I can tell when you're lying."

"Cannot," she argued, half out of habit, half to re-establish the normalcy and force her heart to calm again. It would do her no good to react to Callen with an elevated heart rate and a heat that had nothing to do with the rising sun.

He stepped away, and half of her was relieved while the other half of her was actually kind of disappointed. "Can too," he replied as he made his way around the car, pulling the blanket off the hood. She just rolled her eyes and climbed into the passenger's seat as he replaced the blanket in the trunk of the car. He climbed in beside her and started the car, then looked over to her.

"Breakfast or Ops?"

She shot him a look. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Breakfast. Right."

* * *

_I took some serious creative license with this, especially with places. The constellation information is true, and if you notice, I was careful not to say where they were in the sky. I'm not an expert so I promise I won't pretend to be. _

_I originally wasn't going to write this chapter either. But then it kind of stuck and I realized I could use it to move the story forward. Now, granted, this fluff that's requiring me to go brush my teeth means that the next chapter, at least, is going to focus on the case. It needs to. Which is annoying because at least another one of my fics is at the same place. Yeesh. _

_Review though? Please? Even though it's been a while? Just, you know, to tell me if I'm writing Callen OOC? Kensi is by nature of the situation I'm putting her in, but there's underlying Callen that you really can't mess with, so humour my inner insecurities and pass your evaluation? 'Cause I'd really appreciate it._


	6. Chapter 6

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER SIX**

No Answers, More Questions

. . . . .

Kensi and Callen had just dropped their things at their desks when Eric came racing down the stairs. The agents exchanged a look, vaguely wondering how long the analyst had been in the office and how many energy drinks he'd consumed.

"I found him."

"Found who?" Callen asked leaning against Kensi's desk as she dropped into her chair.

"Captain Freund's boyfriend."

"We found him?" Sam asked, squeezing behind Eric to his desk.

"Well, _I_ found him," Eric corrected proudly, then looked to his keyboard typing a few things in. "Meet Alex Spindell."

"Who's he?" Deeks asked strolling over from Hetty's 'office'.

"Freund's boyfriend," Kensi replied. "Keep up, Deeks."

"Sleeplessness looks good on you Kens," he shot back.

Kensi childishly stuck out her tongue.

"I looked through her phone to check the numbers and vectors. Most of them are her family, her friends, her CO… but _this_ one stood out."

"What do we know about him?" Callen inquired.

"We know he drives," Eric responded, bringing up the DMV file. "He's got a criminal record, mostly petty crimes and he's got connections with some… shady individuals."

Kensi arched an eyebrow. "What kind of shady individuals?"

Eric smirked and pulled up a handful of pictures. Callen's eyes widened and Kensi's jaw dropped slightly. Sam crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned and Deeks looked on in confusion.

"Who are these guys?" the LAPD detective asked.

"Marco DiAntony, arms dealer with ties to some of the more bloody confrontations in South America," Eric began, isolating one of the men. "Beside him is his brother, Carlo."

"Not Polo?" the blond quipped, though there was no humour in his voice.

"But that's not all," Kensi murmured. "There's six of them, all of them with ties to the Middle East, South America, Africa and even some of the street gangs here in the US."

"So this is what our Captain stumbled on," Callen said.

"Maybe this has nothing to do with the serial killer at all," Sam agreed. "Maybe the killing two weeks ago was just the perfect coincidence."

"Attention is diverted away from the weapons and onto the serial killer," Kensi nodded. Then she wrinkled her nose. "So, even her moving from Fallon was a coincidence?"

"Don't think so," Eric answered, his voice almost a sing-song. "I did some checking. Turns out Alex Spindell moved from Fallon two months before she did."

Callen looked from Kensi to Sam, then back again. "She dated him because of the connection?"

"But how did she find the connection?" Sam questioned.

"Stumbled on it?" Deeks answered.

Callen shrugged when all eyes turned to his. "Stranger things have happened."

"But things this strange?" Kensi questioned with a gentle shake of her head. "It's almost too much of a coincidence."

"Almost? It _is_ too much of a coincidence," Deeks agreed.

Silence fell for a moment as every gaze turned to Callen. As leader, it was ultimately his decision. He leaned forward on his desk and considered. "Coincidence or not, we're talking about arms dealers that provide weapons for gangs, militias and militaries all over the world."

"I'm still waiting through the files on the USB key Callen and Kensi brought back," Eric offered. "I should have all the files finished by the end of the day."

"But?" Sam prompted.

"It's all in some sort of shorthand," Eric replied, pulling up one of the files. It was a table, with numbers, letters and various punctuation marks.

"It's got to be her books," Kensi murmured, adrenaline sliding through her veins. It was the adrenaline of a good lead, a chase, the prospect of an arrest and another case closed. She glanced at Eric. "No idea?"

"I'm running it through every cryptogram, every program we've got that could help us figure out what it is. So far, nothing," Eric answered. He gave her an apologetic shrug. "If it spits something out, we'll know."

Callen tipped his head to the side as he regarded Kensi. She looked more awake than he'd seen the last couple of days – and tried to shove aside the thrill that he'd been partially responsible for that – and yet, he could see how much of it was adrenaline. She wasn't ready to go into the high-volume situations yet. Sam seemed to pick up on the same thing.

"I'm thinking we should pay Alex a visit," he said, looking to Deeks.

"Let's go take a peek at Mary-Beth's place again," Callen said to Kensi. "Maybe we'll get lucky and she's left the key code lying around."

Kensi shot him a look, in one of her up moods. "You seriously know nothing about women, do you? You really think she's going to leave the key to her shorthand just lying around? If this is a diary she didn't want anyone else reading it."

"Like I said," he told her with a little half grin. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

* * *

"We're not going to get lucky."

They'd been arguing back and forth for the entirety of the car ride to Freund's house. Callen was adamant that they'd find something – maybe it was a gut instinct, maybe he just wanted to give reason for _not_ going to their suspects house with an admittedly unstable Kensi – while Kensi thought he was certifiable.

"You don't know that."

"Callen, I _told_ you, there isn't a woman alive who is going to leave some sort of decoder lying around. Especially if it turns out this is, like, her diary and not case notes."

"Maybe our Captain is different."

"She's a _woman_. There are some things with women you can count on."

"Like PMS? Mood swings? Temporary insanity? An abnormal fixation on shiny things?"

Kensi rolled her eyes, but grinned. There was a piece of her that recognized Callen was becoming her anchor, though it was as much his fault as it was hers. He wouldn't let her out of his sight for long and she only felt calm and stable when she was with him. It was both a good thing and a bad thing, and she just hoped that their friendship didn't get mixed up in it all. They were a team and if she got a little too attached to Callen, there was the potential that when something went wrong - because with Callen and Sam involved it was almost an inevitability – she wouldn't bounce back. Hadn't she learned? This man, their job… it was asking for heartbreak.

But it wasn't like she could have stopped it.

Callen's arm flew out, and Kensi let out a quiet 'oof' as he hit her stomach. "What the-"

His hand went to his mouth, shushing her, and it was then that Kensi noticed the NCIS seal on the house was broken. She went immediately for her weapon watching Callen do the same as he skipped up the four steps to Freund's front door.

He went in first, hard and fast, Kensi right behind him. A shuffling from the office drew their attention and they moved carefully through the house. What they found in the office was nothing short of surprising.

"NCIS," Callen announced, voice deathly calm.

The man's arms flew up as he turned slowly from where he was quite obviously rummaging through the captain's desk. "Trevor Erikson. JAG," he told them. "My ID's in my back left pocket."

Callen jerked his gun in acknowledgment. "Slowly."

Once they'd verified that his ID was legitimate, both agents holstered their weapons.

"This is an active scene in a murder," Kensi said. "You broke an NCIS seal."

"I know. I know I did." He spoke fast, rushed and nervous. "But I heard about Bethie's death and-"

"Bethie?" Callen inquired.

"Mary-Beth. She's my sister." At the incredulous look he received from the two agents he rushed on. "Well, half-sister, on my mom's side. But we grew up together and-"

"Sir, you haven't answered the question," Kensi broke in sternly. Her heart was racing and if he didn't give them a satisfactory answer soon, she was a little concerned she was going to lose it.

"Oh. Right. Um…" He slammed his eyes closed. "Look, it's going to sound _insane_. I mean, how can I ask my own sister to do something like that, right? But I didn't have a choice and she seemed ready to do it, like she wanted to do it. And she was _good_ at it. I mean, we let her do a trial run, and Mom and I both made sure this was something she really wanted and everything… We took all the precautions we could. We watched her, made sure she checked in…" His eyes were glistening. "She wasn't supposed to die."

Callen and Kensi shifted simultaneously.

"Sir, what did you ask your sister to do?" Kensi finally asked. They needed the words.

"I got her killed," Erikson said after a moment. "I asked for her help with that serial killer, and it got her killed."

* * *

_I know it's been a while. I got distracted. And re-prioritized. And to top it off this ended up a lot shorter than I really wanted it to be. I wanted to get something up and it turned out all of the case stuff was already written..._

_But none of that really matters if you guys enjoyed it and you're still with me. So review? Pretty please?_


	7. Chapter 7

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Chipping Away

. . . . .

They took him to the boatshed.

It was easier that way and both Kensi and Callen knew they could always go back to the house if Erikson didn't give them anything. For now, Callen stood beside the table, Erikson in a chair. Kensi had opted to sit this one out. There was still adrenaline, though only residual amounts and though she knew talking to Erikson wasn't like to spike her blood pressure…

She sighed to herself and ran a hand through her hair. She was still doing her job sitting out on the table. She wasn't shirking her duty. Erikson wasn't a threat. Callen didn't need a partner in there. And the calmer she was now the more likely she'd be able to keep herself together later. Because there would be a later and she damned well couldn't risk losing it in a shootout.

But that didn't mean she wasn't frustrated about it.

She felt weak. She wasn't, and logically she understood that. She wouldn't be doing the job she was if she fell apart at every opportunity. But that didn't mean that all of this, the panic, the dread, the sadness, didn't make her feel like her strength was being eaten from the inside out. Granted, Callen and Sam never seemed to treat her that way. And she was under no illusions about what they knew. Hetty would have given them a bare-bones, if only so they would leave her alone while she tried to deal with it.

Kensi couldn't figure out why this year was different. Why the panic attacks? Why the pressure? She hated feeling like she was going to blow up any minute. And the not knowing made it all worse. She didn't do well with unpredictability, at least when it came to herself. Their missions were always a risk, and uncertainty was always a part of that. Outside of that, outside of those circumstances, she was in control.

Always.

"So let me get this straight," Callen was saying, bringing Kensi back to the men at the table. "You sent _your sister_ after a serial killer."

"It wasn't like that!" Erikson exclaimed. "Bethie… she's always been hard-headed. Stubborn."

Callen shot a look at the camera and Kensi rolled her eyes. It wasn't being stubborn, it was survival. She took care of herself. It had absolutely nothing to do with being stubborn. She just didn't need help.

She slammed the metaphorical door closed on those thoughts. God, now she was _thinking_ herself in circles.

"I tried _everything_, Agent Callen. I even called my mom. And _no one_ does guilt trip like my mom."

Kensi smirked, thinking of Hetty. From Callen's expression, he was doing the same.

"I talked to agents, I talked to lawyers, I talked to family members, friends, her damned CO, but… Anja was Bethie's best friend. She was set on it and NCIS needed the break."

Kensi flipped through the case file. Anja Yanishevski was victim number six. Fallon, Nevada. Kensi winced.

"At that point, the serial killer news had gone… well 'viral'. Everyone knew there was a serial killer. No one knew where or how. Bethie… she and Anja had the same colouring. They weren't identical but... She looked like Anja, like his other victims and NCIS had nothing. Then they were presented with this perfect bait that was _willing_ to play that role, regardless of her lack of training."

Careless, Kensi admitted to herself. And almost implausible if it wasn't for the fact that the man telling the story didn't give off the usual liar vibe. Kensi had a lot of experience with that one. Erikson didn't have to tell them how rare of an opportunity it had been either.

"Mom and I still tried," Erikson continued. "That much of a risk to _family_? Bethie was sure she was on the right track when she met Alex Spindell. She could remember Anja talking to him a few weeks before she was killed."

Weeks. So either the serial killer was escalating or it was his pattern. Kensi shook her head, trying to clear it. They were after the arms dealers, not the serial killer.

"Spindell isn't a serial killer," Callen said.

"He's an arms dealer," Erikson agreed. "Bethie past that on just before deciding to follow him to California."

"She told you about a high-value arms dealer." The disbelief was obvious in Callen's tone.

Erikson sighed. "She wanted to know what to do. She liked the 'undercover' part. It was… cops and robbers, the real game. She was already there and she was our only connection, our only way in. By the time NCIS prepped another agent and got in… Bethie had managed to get places NCIS had been trying to get in for _months_."

"So that was it?"

Kensi smiled to herself as she watched Callen. For someone with no biological family he was certainly protective of family ties.

"Of course I didn't just let her keep doing it!" Erikson exploded. "I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed. There wasn't a single conversation where I didn't tell her to get out, where I didn't beg her to change her mind. She was my _sister_, Agent Callen."

Callen leaned forward. "Why were you rooting through her things?"

"Bethie wrote in code. She always has. Her dad, my step-dad, read her diaries from the time she turned twelve. So one night, after her parents were in bed, I caught her up scribbling and I couldn't, for the life of me decipher what it said. She kept her notes like that too." He laughed to himself. "She did it for school, once she enlisted… _everything_. It became habit. I don't think she ever wrote in English, except formal reports. So I assumed that was how she was writing down stuff on Spindell. She taught me once, how it worked, and it stuck."

"Bingo," Kensi whispered under her breath.

"Was his name-o."

She jumped. High. And stumbled over her own feet. Deeks caught her and his face transformed from playful to absolutely concerned. "Jesus, Kens."

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head and pulling her hands from his. Damn it! The adrenaline wasn't going away. She was still riding some of the high from going into a house, weapon drawn. She glanced at Sam, who just eyed her up and down before raising an eyebrow expectantly. Kensi made a note to get him a _really_ nice birthday present. "Meet Trevor Erikson."

"We have," Sam nodded gently in acknowledgment. "And the whole family."

"Any flags?" She sat back on the edge of the table, doing her very best to ignore the elephant in the room. God. Deeks was her partner. Wasn't this something he should know? Weren't the panic attacks bursts of uncontrollable energy that could get him killed if she wasn't careful?

"Clean as whistles," Deeks replied, then cocked his head to the side. "Never understood that phrase."

Neither Kensi, nor Sam took the bait. Callen stepped out of the room a moment later.

"Do we trust him?" he asked, unfazed in seeing his whole team there.

"He's clean," Sam replied with a solemn nod. "Always oriented for JAG. Top of his class…"

"The normal credentials," Callen agreed, taking up a spot beside Kensi. He was surprised at how strong her pull was becoming. They'd worked together for how long? And yet only now did he suddenly have the urge to make sure she was okay. And he wasn't totally sure it was just because she was a member of his team. To the extent of his knowledge, she'd done well so far, despite the spike of adrenaline he'd known she was riding earlier.

"Doesn't answer the question," Kensi pointed out.

"He's one of us," Sam said, crossing his arms. "He wants Spindell. More now because he killed his sister."

"Assuming they're actually that close," Callen replied.

"Thanks Captain Pessimist," Kensi quipped, rolling her eyes. To be honest, she needed tea. Big time. And a few moments to herself. Because the adrenaline was still there and it was taking its toll. She could feel herself start to shake. She deliberately shifted on her feet to hide it, but she saw Callen shoot her a look.

Callen made a decision. "Kensi and I'll head back to Ops, clear it with Hetty. You guys go talk to this guy's CO. I want to know the guy is real. And I want to know how much they know."

* * *

"I told you something was going on."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely. But he'd long ago learned the value of silence when it came to Marty Deeks and he wasn't about to give anything away. Callen would kill him. And that didn't even _begin_ to describe the hell Kensi would put him through. They were private people by nature, too used to pretending to be someone else to really be themselves. And that meant that any tidbit gleaned about lives outside of the office were like gold.

"Really? You're going with the strong silent type on this? I _know_, Sam."

"Then why are we having this conversation?" Sam retorted, making a show of switching lanes.

"Because… Because they're our partners? Because this is a big deal?"

"It's a big deal. Really." Sam shot him a sceptical look. "How is this a big deal?"

"Are you kidding me? They're sleeping together."

That made Sam jolt. "Okay, now I know you're crazy."

"Am I, Sam? Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure about that," Sam snapped. "G and…"

"There's something going on," Deeks pressed.

"So you automatically jump to… _that_?" the long-time agent asked incredulously. "You're her _partner_."

"What else am I supposed to think? I'm an outsider, you guys have seen to that."

_What am I, this guy's psychologist?_ Sam shook his head. "And that means what, exactly?"

Deeks rolled his eyes, despite the fact that Sam wouldn't see it. "You've made it clear I'm a 'temp', okay? Except Hetty handpicked me to work with you guys. But that's not enough. There's something going on with my _partner_, someone I'm supposed to trust to have my back, no matter what, and no one will tell me what it is." He shook his head.

Sam pondered the words for a moment. He wasn't a cruel person by nature. Sure, he had his opinions about Deeks, but they weren't all bad. And, more importantly, the fact that he and Callen hadn't scared him off by now – let alone Kensi, who could be her own form of terrifying when she wanted to – meant that he was actually trusted. They didn't just let anyone in, whether Hetty picked them or not.

"What part of 'don't ask, don't tell' slipped your mind, Deeks?"

"The part that tells me I have to trust Kensi with my life without question and despite the fact that there's something wrong, no one will tell me what it is," the blond retorted sharply. "But you know. And Callen probably knows more than both of us."

Sam jolted. Oh no. Oh _hell_ no. "Deeks," he began slowly, betraying how concerned he was about the question he was about to ask. "Is this about Kensi, or about Kensi _and Callen_?" Jesus, if it was the latter, he was going to have to injure someone.

"Doesn't matter."

"Uh huh. Which is it, _Temp_?"

"Look, something's wrong with my partner. What would you be doing if it was Callen?" Before Sam could respond, Deeks was shaking his head. "Never mind."

Sam, thankful for the stoplight, took a good look at Deeks. "This isn't about you," he said finally, candidly, pulling into the intersection. "This is about Kensi. I won't betray her trust on this. But I will tell you that it's normal. It happens every year. And every year, she's fine."

"She's like this _every year_?"

Shit. Quite obviously, Deeks had seen deeper than Sam had anticipated. And here, he'd been hoping he could get away with that vague answer. "It's always been easier than this one. But all you need to know is that she'll be fine."

"But you and Callen watch her just a little closer."

This time, Sam sent Deeks a bit of a smile. "Wouldn't you?"

The liaison let out a breath. "Yeah. Yeah I would."

And Sam left it at that. If Deeks was worried about Kensi, that was a good sign. It meant they could trust Deeks to ensure Kensi had the best backup she could. If Deeks was worried about Kensi _and Callen_, well… Sam just didn't want to know. It was bad enough their relationship was changing. The last thing they needed was Deeks' jealousy thrown into the mix.

And Sam knew he could only hope it didn't explode.

* * *

_I could not get the voices right in this one! And by voices, I mean Sam and Deeks. It was driving me absolutely batty. And I'm still not totally comfortable with it. It still sounds off to me. But that, combined with life, is what's taken me so long to get this up. On that end, I'm not going to make guarantees as to when the next chapter is going to be up. I'm trying to make this work as fast as I can, but I'm never sure about time or muse. Patience, as always, is greatly appreciated. _

_As is your opinion! Review please?_


	8. Chapter 8

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Mixing Business with Pleasure

. . . . .

When Kensi returned to Ops, she made a beeline for the electric kettle. Callen trailed behind, watching the way her hands still shook. He debated bumping her aside and making the tea himself, but not for long. She'd probably kick his ass if she found out he even considered it. But the fact that she was still trembling had him on edge. It was taking too long for the adrenaline to work its way through her system. They'd been out of danger for over three hours and even so, the 'danger' had been a routine clearing of a house. He was getting worried.

"Mister Callen? A word?"

He barely resisted the urge to wince. He wanted to check on Kensi, to sit her down and talk about why the hell the panic was still flooding her system. But, Hetty was their ops manager. And he would deny it to his grave, but he was more than a little afraid of her.

"Hetty."

"Mister Callen. How is Miss Blye?"

"Never let it be said that you beat around the bush."

"Now why would I do that and prolong the pain?" Hetty replied.

"You're avoiding the question."

Callen considered Hetty for a moment, then, without his conscious permission, his eyes drifted to Kensi. He could see her shoulders lift and fall as she sucked in repeated deep breaths. "She's been better."

"Indeed. And yet, you've chosen to keep her in the field."

Callen was immediately, and inexplicably, on the defensive. "Are you questioning my decisions?" He deflated when Hetty merely raised an eyebrow. "There haven't been any problems."

But Hetty knew better. She knew her agents better. And while Callen may not have been able to voice his defensiveness when it came to Kensi in the field, Hetty knew much more. She knew that Kensi would define herself by her job, by her ability to keep control. The fact that she couldn't - and Hetty saw more than her agents thought she did - would put the agent on edge. Yet, Hetty had been an agent herself once upon a time, and she knew that Kensi could be a danger in the field. More importantly, she knew Callen's concentration on Kensi's well-being would be a danger in the field. There was a reason fraternization regulations existed.

Yet, Hetty had a soft spot for Callen. And she knew that Kensi could be good for him. In fact, they would be good for each other. From day one, Hetty had watched as Callen paid closer attention to Kensi than was probably warranted. She hadn't thought much of it. When she'd taken them both on, they're been so broken it hadn't really mattered. But now, she knew that they both considered Ops home. Hell, Callen slept on the couch more often than he slept at home. It had, in part, been her intention. Even lost souls needed a place. It was just a bonus that both Kensi and Callen were phenomenal at their jobs. Well, she'd noticed them for their skills and created one of her best teams based on their backgrounds, but it was essentially the same thing. And Sam had been the perfect addition to balance them out.

The addition of Deeks, Hetty knew, was a bit of a wild-card. He wasn't accepted in the LAPD. He was often childish, but Hetty saw through it. And she'd liked what she'd seen. So she'd lured him to NCIS under the guise of 'liaison'. Callen had caught on quickly, not that Hetty had expected anything less, and Deeks had found a place. Though, Hetty had seen Deeks watching Kensi, similar to how Callen had been watching Kensi over the last few weeks. That had been an unanticipated development and Hetty hoped that whatever happened, she wouldn't have to split up the team. They balanced each other. They worked. And Hetty was more than impressed with them.

"And if there are?" Hetty finally asked.

"Hetty, you know the lives and safety of my team is the most important thing to me. So what is this really about?"

And this was where her relationship with Callen got a little fuzzy. As standoffish as she tried to be, as mythological as she was often portrayed, Callen had found some way to get through the walls she'd long-ago built. "Why must there always be an alternative motive with you, Mister Callen?"

He took page out of her book and raised an eyebrow.

"I am merely checking on Miss Blye, Mister Callen. As this is a difficult time of year for her we are all on edge."

Callen didn't believe her. For a second. But he also knew when Hetty clammed up, getting information out of her was almost impossible. He put on his best formal tone. "Should there be a problem, I will take the requisite steps to ensure the safety of my agents." Then, because he was still a bit sore at Hetty's implied belief he didn't take care of his agents, he added, "Always."

* * *

Kensi had known Hetty and Callen were talking about her. So the moment she thought she could, she slipped out of their eyesight. She could only hope that neither of them was going to pull her off the case. Admittedly, it didn't take a genius to figure out that it would be within their power. The fact that she was still trembling, if only slightly, did pose a problem, and could continue to. If she couldn't get her adrenaline under control, she would be a liability in the field.

And yeah, maybe she was sulking about it a little bit.

But who could blame her? She hated feeling this helpless and more, hated that she couldn't get the helpless feeling under control. At all. It was driving her crazy, it was unfair and the last thing she wanted was for Hetty, Callen, or even Sam or Deeks, to see her as weak. She could handle herself. She always handled herself. She'd always been damned good at it. The fact that she seemed to continually panic at the slightest danger didn't change that.

She looked up at the slight rustle of clothing and almost jumped when she found Callen standing there.

"You should know by now that there is no way you know this hacienda better than I do."

She smiled, and turned back to the outside world.

Callen joined her, glad she'd bought his excuse. In reality, he knew that one of the few things that helped her settle herself was looking out over the landscape. He'd deduced it was essentially the same as the stars. She felt small, felt like a piece of the universe instead of an agent often tasked with essentially saving the world.

"It shouldn't be like this," she said quietly, after a moment.

"I know," he replied, stepping closer. He knew he was crossing a million regulation lines, but seeing her so disturbed and most definitely upset, made his chest hurt in ways it wasn't supposed to. So he took up his position behind her shoulder, close enough that their shoulders brushed. She shivered, and it jolted him slightly.

When Kensi turned, she did so slowly, absently putting her cup down on the windowsill. He was right there, standing behind her and beside her, the same places he'd been as long as she'd known him. Even now, she didn't feel like Callen treated her like an invalid, just... watched her. And while that in itself was both disconcerting and a little irritating, there was a part of her that was warmed by the knowledge that he was just... there.

In her space.

It was the latter thought that had her eyes jumping to his, then away. She wasn't sure what to say, what to do and pressed her lips together against an inexplicable pull. She could see the change in his eyes, probably the same way he could see it in hers. It had nothing to do with being on the same page and everything to do with knowing each other. And the shift was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Callen's hand came to rest on the lower curve of her back, fingers hot through Kensi's sweater. The air caught in her lungs against her better judgement. She wasn't this kind of woman. She didn't react this way to men. She was always in control. And hell, they'd been in more intimate positions before. They'd played significant others, they'd played one-night-stands, they'd played lovers, but it had never felt like this. And that was why none of this made sense. Why was she reacting to him now? If it was because he was becoming her anchor she didn't like it.

If it wasn't… well, she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She knew how she should feel. It should be weird, awkward, _wrong_, but standing there, knowing Callen was someone she could lean on, knowing he'd proven that… it changed things. Yet, she still moved closer.

"Callen." She hadn't known her voice could be that breathy when she didn't want it to.

"This is a bad idea." He leaned in.

Kensi nodded, barely. "Terrible."

"Kens…"

He wanted her to stop him. She knew it. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed. She found herself, for once in her life, glad that she and Callen were the same height. It would make everything easier when-

The jolt that shot through her when their lips met had her heart thumping and her stomach dropping to her toes. Kensi knew she had to pull away. This wasn't right. Yet, for the first time, she wasn't battling back emotions. She was releasing them and in a way she felt was so much more productive than crying. Callen's hands were hot on her back, clenching in her shirt in a way that said he didn't want to go farther. He didn't want to risk touching her.

They both looked away when the kiss broke, chests rising and falling a little faster than usual. Callen was, shockingly, the first to break the stalemate. His hand slid down her arm, then back up again to take her cheek in his palm. "This is a bad idea."

It was all that needed to be said. There were so many reasons, so many cons… And yet, Kensi had felt safe and comforted by the kiss. It shocked her, surprised her and terrified her, all at the same time. "We're okay," she said eventually. "This… We're okay."

He nodded, his hand falling to her neck, then back down her arm until he grasped her hand. "We're okay."

"We've got a case to solve."

"Sam and Deeks are going to wonder where we are."

"Hetty's going to chew us out."

Callen flashed briefly to the conversation he'd had with the diminutive ops manager. He wasn't sold on the idea that Hetty would be too upset about them taking a break. Sure, she'd be frustrated with the insanity that would likely follow sharing the news of what had just transpired, but something told him that his closeness with Kensi would be looked at as beneficial, rather than a detriment. The woman had been trying to get them to open up to each other since making them a team. But that was information he wasn't sure he wanted to share with Kensi.

"Callen?"

He knew what she was asking. "It didn't happen," he told her quietly, despite the fact that his hand tightened on hers. Why was that so difficult to say?

She nodded. Her chest tightened. "Never happened." She swallowed, hoping it was as obvious as it felt.

There was another awkward pause.

"Eric and Nell?" Callen asked, finally releasing her hand.

"Yeah. I just… I'm just going to finish my tea. Here."

Callen nodded. Sharply. "Sure."

And despite their conversation, the knowledge that what had transpired _needed_ to be put behind them, Callen felt his heart constrict as he walked away.

* * *

_There are a million things I could say about this, but you don't necessarily want to hear them. Admittedly, I don't like this. I think I need to do some re-evaluating. Which means the next chapter might be a while in coming. I used to know where I was going, then the characters took on a life of their own. Now I don't. Surprise! _

_Either way, as always, I appreciate your opinions. And now that school's done for summer, I should be better about at the very least getting back to you about your thoughts and opinions. I miss that. _

_Thanks in advance!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER NINE**

Fatality of Trust

. . . . .

What the hell was going on?

Marty Deeks was many things. He was probably a bit insane, more than a bit of a daredevil and with a dangerous streak a mile wide. He was charming and he knew it, and not even the constant ragging of the team could diminish his belief in that particular aspect of his personality. He had good instincts that made him a damned good cop.

What he wasn't, was stupid.

So he knew something was wrong. Something was up. Something that no one was telling him about. Something that, in the past hour or so, had gotten worse.

If it had been anyone else, any other team, he'd think there'd been a fight. But these guys didn't fight, not in the same sense as others. They bickered and argued, but if something was up, they were the strong silent type. A coded phrase, a simple brush, that was enough for them to know the team was a solid support to hold them up, or a cushy mat if they happened to fall.

This was something _entirely _different.

Deeks had learned early that Kensi was private. She share things about herself – her junk food fixation, her unnatural ability to keep up with him, her obsession with ensuring she was fit and ready – but nothing much deeper than that. He could put some of it together. He was what, her third, fourth partner? So she quite obviously had issues there. She worked as an undercover agent, so he doubted she had any family. She ate and drank like the boys, but cleaned up like the classiest women Deeks had ever met. She had class, but she was also down and dirty.

And okay, he had a bit of a crush on her. But a woman like that?

The problem was, Deeks had always known there was a kind of 'claim' on her. It wasn't like a brand and he wasn't totally sure any of the three of them were really aware of it, but Kensi wasn't there for other men to take. At least not when Callen was around. Something about the man exuded dangerousness, and, above that, told them that Kensi was very much off limits. To Deeks, it was an interesting development for the sole reason that he knew Kensi and Callen weren't sleeping together.

It was something else.

But it definitely stemmed from the two of them. Eric and Nell were explaining something about hang outs, trajectories and cameras, but Deeks was watching Kensi. She'd picked up a mug of tea and cupped it between her palms as she listened. It would have been sweet, domestic and adorable if Kensi's tea-drinking wasn't so out of character. Hetty hadn't managed to convert her yet, and she still shot coffee back like it was water. So why the tea?

And why the snappy? She'd bitten his head off more in the few hours they spent together than she had when he was _trying_ to piss her off. More often than not it was over something that would usually get at least a small smile out of her. But she was worse than on edge and had been for a while. He knew Kensi had issues, what kind of undercover agent didn't, but something told him this wasn't necessarily about the job. Connected, maybe, but not about it.

They all had little crises of faith when a case, when an op, went south. Deeks knew Kensi had her fair share. But they all bucked up and came in the next day because this kind of work for this particular team wasn't a job, it was a damned calling. There was nothing else they could be doing, other than maybe conning people out of millions or plotting serious criminal activity. Except Sam.

The kicker though? He hadn't been paired with his damned partner for the better part of a month. He liked Kensi. He and Kensi worked really well together. Even Kensi had admitted that after a particularly rough case where she got a little too into the post-arrest celebration. And he was pretty sure he hadn't pissed her off leading up to this particular mood swing. That was the biggest clue that something was most definitely amiss. But they were all closed lipped, refused to say a word. Even Kensi, not that he'd asked her outright. Despite his job, he hoped to become an awesome dad someday, thanks. Maybe. Hopefully.

So Kensi had issues. So what? Weren't partners supposed to know partners? Sharing burdens and all that? Sam and Callen did. Albeit without words or even really needing the slightest indication, but Kensi was a woman and an agent. So Deeks knew he was at a double-disadvantage. She was a _good_ agent so she could lie through her teeth walking into a gunman's lair whether prepared or not. He'd seen her do it. So half the time, he wasn't sure he believed the things he figured out about her. And even he could admit the female mind was an enigma to him. That wasn't a stereotype, just the way he was and probably some of the women he dealt with. Like Kensi.

But the tension wasn't just hers anymore. It had spread. Sam kept flicking glances between them, as if he _knew_ – and Deeks knew, at the very least, he knew exactly what was going on with Kensi – that something had shifted.

And he wasn't touching Callen.

Callen would always be an enigma. Deeks didn't bother to try. Most of the time, when Callen was in a 'mood', Sam handled it. He was good at it, used to it, knew exactly how much to push and how much to watch. And if Sam couldn't handle it, Hetty did. Yeah, Deeks wasn't blind. He'd seen the maternal way Hetty dealt with Callen. Hell, half the time she took the same tactics with him and by the time he realized she had he'd already dealt with the issue and moved on.

But now, Callen stared straight ahead, watching the images flick across the screen. Sam was taking point, asking question despite the fact that it was obvious he knew something was up.

Then something was beeping, and Deeks hit earth hard.

Literally.

His elbow had slid off the table.

And he was either insane or just in dire need of levity because he actually felt a smile stretching his face when Kensi's mouth turned up.

Nell rushed over, typing on a computer, checking and double-checking the findings. Then she looked up, eyes bright, smile wide. "We've got him."

The tension ratcheted up another notch.

"Warehouse in Long Beach," Nell continued, half murmuring to herself.

Sam looked to Eric. "Can we tie him to Captain Freund?"

Eric did a mental inventory of what they had. "No. Just the guns."

"We raid the place, we find the evidence," Callen said, his mind already whirling. Sometimes life was nice enough to throw you distractions from rather intense almost-make-out sessions in back corners of Ops.

"No guarantees," Deeks pointed out.

But they all knew they were going.

Callen seemed torn as he looked at the team. Eventually, it was Sam who decided that Deeks would finally – _finally_ – get a chance to actually talk to his partner. Deeks was, honestly, a little shocked, but there was something in Sam's eyes, something that told him that this needed to be about Callen and Kensi. They could be walking into an ambush and the last thing they needed was the extra pressure of an issue. Sam would handle Callen, like he always did. Deeks would be in charge of Kensi. Deeks wondered, just for a split second, why that felt like an honour.

He followed his partner out to the SUV. "When did you convert to tea?" he asked, conversationally.

She shot him a dark look as she yanked open her door. "Deeks. Don't."

"Just…" He slammed her door closed, trapping her against it and looked down at her with his most sincere, serious face. "I want five minutes."

She deflated. "What?"

"Something's going on." He held up a hand when she her face went dark. "I get it. You want to keep it to yourself. That's fine."

She looked at him sceptically. He'd always bombarded her with questions. Always. Until she gave in.

"_But_ you are my partner. So I worry and I care. So I want to know. But I get that you're… protective, I guess. I just…" God, this was not going the suave way he wanted to. Or the sincere one. Because at the end of the day, what mattered was that she knew he was there. They were partners, and that meant 'till the wheels fell off. Period. "If you want to talk, if you need an extra ear, I'm here, okay? Partners means I'm here, with or without stupid questions and constant innuendo."

That got the edges of a smile.

"So, I'm here, and I _mean_ that."

Kensi knew she had a choice. She could wave it off, tell him she was fine and everything was normal. Then again, she could acknowledge it. She wasn't ready to share, but she wondered if maybe keeping Deeks in the dark was kind of unfair. He'd already headed to his side of the car so she climbed in, sticking the keys in the ignition as she pulled the door closed. She kept staring out the window, pulling her seatbelt on.

"Deeks?"

He paused, his shuffling sounds stopping immediately. "I know. And I'm not ready, but I know."

With that kind of blatant honesty, he couldn't argue. Instead, he nodded and finished buckling his belt. "Let's go catch us some baddies."

"Baddies? Are you twelve? Wait, no. Six?"

And Deeks smiled. Because even for that split second, everything felt normal.

* * *

"Is it going to be a problem?"

Callen glanced over at his partner, watching the SUV that was following behind them. He said nothing.

"Seriously, G. Is this going to be a problem? Because we're about to walk into a warehouse filled with gun runners and I'd like to know if I should be making sure you're not going to shoot Kensi."

Callen snorted. "I'm not going to shoot Kensi."

Sam debated, then went for the jugular. "Just kiss her."

He didn't need validation. The way Callen's head flew around told him he was right.

"Come on, G. I have kids. I know the signs."

"Yeah well," Callen said. "It never happened."

It was funny, sometimes, that those three words were enough for Sam to understand so much more. "Because we're working a case."

Callen stayed silent.

"You've always had a thing for her, G."

"What?" No. No, no, no. Because G Callen didn't get attached. To anyone, anything, nothing. Period. And the job didn't count. Neither did Hetty because she was just always _there_.

Sam shrugged. "Even Deeks knows there's a 'do not touch' sign."

"Are you going to sit here and try and convince me there's something between me and Kensi?"

"Nope," Sam responded cheerfully. "Because you already know it." He sobered. "I'm going to sit here and ask you if it's worth it."

Callen didn't have an answer to that. Was Kensi worth putting a lot on the line for? There were stories and urban legends of teammates, partners, starting in on romantic relationships only to have it ripped from them in a split second. And their jobs were twice as dangerous. How was he going to react the next time she had to go in and seduce a man guilty of strangling her doppleganger to death? How was he going to feel the next time she used her sex appeal to get attention and answers? How was he going to deal with the next time she had a gun held to her head?

And none of it had anything to do with his confidence in her. He had unshakable confidence in what she did, in what she could do. She constantly surprised them, constantly surprised _him_ and yeah, maybe sometimes they forgot she could more than hold her own but the fact that he could send her into the most dangerous of situations without a blink told him just how much faith he had in her. How much trust he had in her.

Did he trust himself? Not with her and it had nothing to do with mutual attraction. He didn't trust himself to let her in, didn't trust herself to be able to step away from the job, the danger, the unknown. He was a very broken man – he wasn't stupid or in denial – he was irritable, cranky on the best of days, sarcastic and cynical. He moved around – his house aside – and had more enemies than he had ways of keeping track. While he knew Kensi had her own fair share of people who wanted her head, the idea of putting her in that much danger, allowing himself to put her in that much danger, was terrifying.

Yet those three-plus seconds of his mouth against hers, her body against his… He didn't have words to describe it. And it was enough to balance the scales.

"I don't know," Callen finally said.

Sam nodded. "You might want to figure it out. Whether you know it or not, it's affecting all of us."

And they both knew that kind of threat, that kind of issue, that kind of tension could be fatal.

* * *

_I still feel like I can't get a handle on Sam. And Sam and Callen's little banter. And I can recognize Callen as OOC and simultaneously rationalize it as something that needed to happen. Who the hell knows how Callen would react should this situation arise? But it still feels weird 'cause I feel like I'm writing him as a weak idiot. _

_Bright side? The first part of this made me happy. Deeks deserved to have his day, didn't he?_

_Getting here was difficult. Those of you who have been waiting for this… I appreciate your patience more than I can write in words. I literally had no idea how to get here from the kiss they shared in the last chapter. Unfortunately, like this chapter, I'm really, really not sure when the next one is going to be ready. Or even close to ready. I kind of have to rethink a few things here and make some decisions. _

_Hopefully that means you guys will be super-awesome and include your thoughts? What would you expect to happen from here? What would you write? What does it make you think of? I'm not usually one to like to "steal" ideas, but something may spark an excellent scene that I need to get where I want to go. So I'd appreciate it even more this time than the previous seven chapters. _


	10. Chapter 10

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER TEN**

The Breaking Point

. . . . .

From the outside, the op went off without a hitch. NCIS with LAPD backup arrested four of the seven arms dealers they found at the warehouse. Including, most importantly, Alex Spidell. It was, essentially, textbook, except for the three dead criminals lying in blood pools. NCIS and LAPD had walked away with some minor scrapes and bruises, a few grazes and very smug smiles.

Internally, it had gone very, very different.

The minute Kensi climbed in the SUV with Deeks, her pulse jumped and refused to settle. It wasn't a surprise, but it was unwelcome. She could feel the adrenaline getting worse and worse for every mile they drove. If Deeks caught on to her mounting panic, he didn't say anything. She was grateful, if only because it allowed her to focus on tamping down her adrenaline as hard as her iron will allowed. But even then, with the formidable stubbornness, it wasn't helping.

She should have pulled out the minute they arrived. She should have been smart enough to make that call. Instead, the first flash of gunfire sent her scrambling uncharacteristically and she'd been forced to stay curled behind a pile of boxes while the panic flooded everything. She felt weak, vulnerable, irritated with herself, and useless.

She wasn't sure which was worse.

Which was why she was looking out over the LA twilight at ops instead of in the boatshed, questioning Alex Spidell with Deeks, Callen and Sam. And the adrenaline had yet to wear off. So Hetty's voice made her jump.

"You wanted to see me, Dear?"

Kensi released a long stream of air as she looked at the diminutive woman. She'd been looking for Hetty since the minute she'd returned to ops. "I did," she agreed.

Hetty watched with calm, measuring eyes. "Is it about today?"

"I panicked, Hetty," she confessed. "There was nothing I could do. _Nothing_. I could have gotten someone killed." Like Callen, who had been the one to forcibly pull her from the wreckage of boxes.

Hetty continued to stay silent in the age-old technique of waiting out the witness.

"Hetty, I'm not sure I can do this," Kensi sighed. She was so torn. But she got lucky, and she kenw it. The next time, there was a serious possibility that things would end much, much worse.

Hetty considered her for another moment. "You have accrued vacation time."

"Yeah," Kensi agreed.

Hetty let the silence settle. "Tomorrow is the day your father was killed."

"Yeah," Kensi whispered. It brought tears to her eyes. It still did. She truly believe it still should.

"Take the time, Miss Blye," the ops manager encouraged softly.

Kensi sighed. "Yeah."

Hetty watched the younger woman. She'd brought Kensi onto the team because she felt Callen and Sam could benefit from the extra hands and, most especially, the extra female hands. But she'd also seen something in Kensi from the moment she'd laid eyes on her. There was pain, yes, but also determination and drive. Hetty had known Kensi would be a malleable as an agent but would also truly benefit from the strength and support Sam and Callen would offer. It had turned out better than she'd anticipated. Hell, beyond what she'd anticipated.

Because she could never have believed adding Kensi would be what tied Callen down.

"Go home, Miss Blye. Call when you're ready to come back."

There was a split second where, despite the fact that it had been Kensi's decision, she considered arguing. But, with a defeated nod, and the smallest of smiles, she started away.

"Kensi," Hetty called, stopping her. The ops manager offered a surprisingly sad smile. "Don't be afraid to let others in. Sometimes that's the key to reciprocal trust."

Kensi didn't need to ask who Hetty was talking about.

* * *

Callen wasn't a fan of open ends. Unfortunately for them, they only had Spinell cold on the weapons charges. The man wasn't saying a word about the murder. Callen had tried, Sam had tried and Deeks had tried. The man had evaded _everything_. He had good reason, of course. The evidence fit just enough for the story of the serial killer to have clout. They had nothing concrete to tie Spinell to the murder.

As usual, however, it made perfect sense for them to want to try the one person that hadn't taken a crack. They had no idea how Spinell would respond to a woman. The problem was, Kensi was nowhere to be found.

Callen had searched every nook and cranny, tried calling and texting and Kensi was nowhere.

He was getting beyond worried.

"Hetty!"

"Mister Callen."

"Where's Kensi?"

"Miss Blye is not here."

Callen rolled his eyes. "I know that. I can see that. I need to talk to her."

"She's not here, Mister Callen."

Callen pause, looking at the ops manager. "Where is she, Hetty?"

"She has gone home."

To Callen, it felt like a slap in the face. "Hetty, I can take care of my team. She doesn't need to be taken out of the field, she doesn't need to go home."

"Mister Callen, I understand Miss Blye is important. It was not my choice."

"Not your choice." Callen most certainly didn't believe her.

"Miss Blye made the decision to take herself out of the field. She is taking some time, Mister Callen. She asked for it."

"Kensi wouldn't pull herself out of the field," Callen argued.

"On the contrary, it takes a strong person to admit that they must take a break." Hetty folded her hands in front of her. "Tomorrow is a difficult day for our Miss Blye. Today was not easy for her either. She feels some time away from the office will help."

And she'd gone over his head to get the approval. She hadn't told him, hadn't mentioned it to him hadn't-

It wasn't his business.

The thought hit him like a punch in the gut. Beyond being the team leader and thus, her boss, he had no claim on her. Not that he wanted a claim. Right?

Why the hell was Kensi so confusing? Why had she never been confusing before? He was getting wrapped up in her and even he knew that was dangerous. He wanted her to be there, he wanted to bounce ideas off of her, hear her thoughts on Spinell, hell, even hear her give them crap for being the only one to crack him. Damnit he just wanted to have her near.

Instead, he had no idea where she was.

But one thing was for certain: he didn't like the idea of her fighting it alone.

* * *

Kensi had known before going to bed the day she woke up to would be a difficult one.

She'd had no idea.

She'd felt the pressure in her chest before she'd even surfaced from dreamland. But this pressure, she knew, wasn't indicative of a panic attack. This was the precursor to the pain of loss that only came on the day she woke up to the news her father wouldn't be returning home.

At work, she didn't make a big deal out of it. Partially, it was a protection of privacy thing. Primarily, she quite simply didn't need the attention. Each member of Hetty's hand-picked team had their own ghosts. Most of the time, those ghosts were exactly what drove them to do the work they did. It was a calling. This year, however, she was already, well, vulnerable.

It sucked, to be blunt, so she spent more than a few minutes imply wallowing in bed. Usually, she could throw herself into work, but the panic attacks from this year's grief-fest had seen to her unavoidable decision to take herself out of the field. Unfortunately, it also meant she had time to dwell. And think. All of the things work helped to keep away. She really wasn't used to it.

But her father had never been the type to wallow and it was a trait he'd passed onto her daughter in spades. So though she very much didn't want to, she pulled herself out of bed. She threw on shorts, a tank and a light sweater. Then she drove to the beach.

The beach had long ago become Kensi's favourite place to be. It was the one place she could think, where it didn't feel like the weight of the world, or her past operations, were settled on her shoulders. She felt peace in the way her feet sank into the san, in the constant crash of the waves. Her senses cleared with the first scent of the sea breeze and despite the difficult nature of the day, she felt a smile tilt the corners of her mouth.

The minute she set foot on the sand, the outside world completely disappeared.

There were no panic attacks, no pressure and no confusing Callen to crowd her mind. It was just her and the ocean. And for once, Kensi let her brain wander. She didn't race off down the stretch of sand, but meandered right to shore's edge. This, she'd long ago decided, was home. As a child who'd led a very transient lifestyle, home was a misnomer. Kensi had learned early that home wasn't a place, nor was it a person. It was a feeling, like curling up in a blanket with hot chocolate during a nasty thunderstorm. She'd since upgraded from hot chocolate to coffee but the principle still stood. But in LA, the beach was the closest thing she had, the best she could do.

So she walked, she wandered and she allowed herself to think freely.

Sometimes, at the odd moment of extreme weakness, she wondered what her father thought of what she did. Every moment was a contradiction. She lied, for that was the crux of her profession, but she did so for the greater good. She played on her femininity and sexuality for information or a confession and she was a pro at mixing truth and lies so seamlessly that sometimes even she wasn't quite sure which was which. But she was also damned good at all of it. She knew it and she was pretty sure that at least that was worthy of some pride. Pride she certainly hoped he felt. There was nothing she could do to honour his memory except hope that it was at least a piece. Going to work, bringing in criminals… it was the only reason, it was her drive. He'd be proud, and he'd probably even trust the guys to keep her safe.

And considering how protective her father had been, even though he also raised her like a son, that was a supreme vote of confidence.

He'd find Deeks hilarious, she thought as she kicked a wave. He'd tell her she was always so tense, so serious and Kensi knew her dad would think Deeks would be useful in keeping her from drowning. He'd also admire her blond partner. Deeks got under her skin and managed to stay there until she talked. And Kensi knew her father would have trusted Deeks in the same unequivocal way she did by sheer nature of being his partner.

Sam would remind her dad of himself. The quiet strength that was an inherent part of who Sam was. The calm he brought to the team would do more to endear Sam to her dad. Her dad would notice Sam's quiet approval and affectionate support as Kensi's hard-fought battle to prove herself. Her father would swell in pride at the way Sam recognized how damned good she was.

He'd be utterly fascinated by Hetty, alternately amused and disgusted by Eric and probably terribly confused by Nell.

And he'd love Callen.

The thought didn't scare her as much as she anticipated. She stopped, settling down on the sand so she could rest her chin on her knees as she considered the notion. He'd like Callen's dark streak. He'd call him 'dangerously interesting', but he'd be able to see the goodness of his heart, his loyalty and the strength as much as the lonely boy beneath the agent. But the flaw would be her father's favourite part. He'd say it made Callen human, normal, attainable.

But it wasn't that simple.

Callen had issues that had the potential to break even the strongest woman. To say he was closed off was the greatest of understatements. Callen was Fort Knox and Kensi knew it. Depending on him like she'd been doing, allowing her heart to continue to squeeze when she saw him, her stomach flipping, was so incredibly dangerous. Depending on him would only bring her heartbreak.

And they'd _kissed_.

How the hell had she just given into that? They'd agreed to ignore it, to never think of it, but how could she avoid it when she stomach had jumped and her heart had jolted. The pleasure had been there, thick and strong and though she'd managed to put it out of her mind, now that she was just letting her thoughts wander it came with everything else. And her body reacted accordingly. She pressed a hand to her stomach to quell the butterflies.

The logical part of her brain knew that it was stupid. She'd identified it from the minute he helped her down from off that first panic attack. When she'd initially had these attacks, when she was much, _much_ younger, the psychologist she'd seen a handful of times had warned her about anchors. It was dangerous to have one, difficult to detangle the dependency from other, stronger feelings. But she hadn't been able to stop herself and he'd been shockingly understanding. He hadn't lost his faith in her, despite the fact that she seriously doubted herself. It was a powerful feeling.

But it didn't change the danger. If she allowed herself to get involved she'd end up alone again. Like usual.

She needed to avoid 'like usual'.


	11. Chapter 11

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Redemption

. . . . .

They chased Spindell around for a week.

Every spare moment they had was spent hammering at the man, trying to find the connection to the cross-country murders that had alerted them to the arms dealers in the first place.

The man gave up nothing.

"Maybe we should ask Hetty," Deeks suggested.

Both Callen and Sam sent him scathing looks.

"Or not."

"You wanna tell her?" Sam asked.

It was one thing for Hetty to know they weren't getting answers, another for them to actually admit they weren't making progress.

And Kensi wasn't back yet.

If he was honest, Callen would admit to still smarting over that one. It bothered him that she'd gone above his head. But he'd taken a step back, mostly because he'd been shocked at how much of that reaction had been personal. It wasn't about an agent going over his head, it was about _Kensi_ going over his head.

"No," Deeks said on a sigh. He watched Spindell, staring out the grimy window to the cloudy LA day beyond. Then, running a hand through his hair and turning to his teammates, he let out a heavy sigh. "If he has no ties to the murder, why doesn't he throw us a bone?"

Callen and Sam stayed silent.

"We've got him cold on the weapons charges. Cold. What difference does a murder make? And don't tell me it's his damned reputation."

Sam shrugged. "One murder or eight, it does the job."

"And then some," Callen agreed. But he too wasn't settled on Spindell as their serial killer. Beyond Spindell, however, they had nothing. And he was the one with the closest ties to Freund.

"Nothing in his file points to murder," Sam countered. "Until we caught him, we weren't even lookin' at him for the murder. Hell, we still have no concrete proof they're connected."

Callen folded on arm across his chest and rested his elbow on it, then his chin on his fist. "We need a surprise." But he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He knew what he wanted to do, knew what he was hoping would work, but he sure as hell wasn't sure he was ready to face her.

They'd all tried. They'd tried time, and time, and time again. Spindell was used to them. They needed to throw him a curveball.

And there was no better curveball than Kensi Blye. If anyone knew it, Callen did.

Because after a week without her around Callen had realized one utterly terrifying thing: Kensi was his curveball.

* * *

Callen was in front of Kensi's apartment complex before the sun had even risen. He could have waited but he needed to be here. He didn't know why.

He didn't want to admit why.

At least, not out loud.

He was worried. Really worried. Kensi didn't take time off unless there was an extremely good reason. Not even the flu counted, nor any other illness that wasn't actually physically debilitating. She had no family to visit. She shoved personal things aside enough to work day in, day out. He counted on her for all of that. He counted on her steady, reliable predictability. None of that had been on display for almost a month.

God, and that was only the tip of the iceberg.

She'd gone over his head for the time off. That irked him, both his pride and his trust. She should have been able to ask him. He would have given her the time. Wouldn't he?

He wasn't selfish. And he damned well wasn't dependent. But everything with Kensi was throwing him for a loop. He felt like he couldn't get a grip. On anything.

And he _always _had a grip.

So why, out of all the years they'd worked together, was everything coming to a head now?

Callen wasn't used to being blindsided by things. Whatever the hell was going on with Kensi beyond blindsided him. He wasn't sure what was going on either. They'd _kissed_. Really kissed. He was a red-blooded male and she was a smart, snarky, tough as hell, gorgeous woman. Resistance, as he'd heard from some movie, was futile. He'd lost himself; he'd _enjoyed_ himself. He had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

He knew he was broken, or at least irreparably damaged. He was useless to anyone as anything beyond the damned good agent he was. It was _all _he was. G Callen was an agent, a chameleon and a damned legend of the urban kind. For all intents and purposes he didn't exist. It wasn't a good foundation for anything beyond a working relationship. Not to mention how dangerous his work was or how often he went undercover.

And between them a one-night-stand would be the most regrettable decision they could ever make.

So why was he considering it?

He had a rule: never, _ever_, date a woman that carries her own gun. How much worse would it be when that woman with a gun was his teammate and subordinate?

He sighed and looked to Kensi's door. He was only slightly surprised to see her standing there, leaning against the frame, watching his car.

He'd been made.

Duh.

Now he had to decide how to play it.

She beat him to it.

His phone rang and he couldn't stop himself from jumping slightly at the sound. He wasn't surprised to see Kensi's number on his caller ID.

"I have coffee," she said, in lieu of a greeting.

He could have shrugged her off. After all, he had interviews to conduct, paperwork to file, a job to do. But _dammit_, he was worried. So he opened his car door, hanging up the phone in the process. She didn't seem offended as he locked up and made his way towards her.

She looked good, comfortable, soft. It was a marked difference from the Kensi Callen had been working with for the last month. It didn't look like she'd quite slept enough to erase the demons or the bags under her eyes, but she didn't seem as tormented. As fragile. She looked more like Kensi.

She looked beautiful.

"You asked Hetty for time off."

Kensi turned, leaving him to close and lock the front door as she headed for her tiny kitchen. She had, after all, promised him coffee. "I didn't _ask_ for anything."

"She told you." It didn't surprise him, but it only lessened the sting. "She didn't have to."

"Yeah she did, Callen," Kensi replied then paused, tilting her head. "Tea?"

"Coffee's fine." He wanted to keep focus. "You were fine."

Kensi entertained a brief consideration for Callen's pride before she released a small snort and shook her head. "No, I wasn't."

Callen deflated, backed down. He wasn't used to it, but he couldn't seem to hold onto his temper with her. It wasn't his business if she needed time off, if she wasn't okay.

He wanted it to be.

It surprised him just how much.

"My dad was killed yesterday."

She'd settled at a tiny table, framing a neon orange mug in her palms. Her face was serious, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. He slid into the other chair. He didn't know what to say. All too often it was Sam handling grieving family members. He was sympathetic enough, just not so good at the physical comfort part.

"I'm sorry."

It was all he could offer.

Kensi's mouth twitched and her gaze darted to his quickly. Then they were back on the one up of coffee she'd been allowing herself until she returned to work. "There's no cure. For the attacks. Nothing I can do but wait them out. And that's dangerous, Callen. We both know it."

He was silent, partially because this was as open as Kensi was with anyone.

"I could see someone, but that would mean rehashing absolutely everything and potentially someone outside of NCIS and the team." She offered him another twitch of the lips. "But that idea never appeals to any of us. The last option is essentially the wait and see approach."

"And that's the one you're going with."

"That's the best option. Even the shrink might tell me it's the only option."

He didn't like it. He hated it. He was surprised to find his reaction was completely emotional. Her points made sense. They were _right_. Considering Kensi and her comfort level it was the most logical answer. Yet it still bothered him.

It inadvertently brought them full circle.

"We kissed."

This time, her head snapped up and held.

"Really kissed."

Her cheeks heated despite how hard she wished against it. She'd relived that kiss more than once in the time since it happened. "I thought we weren't talking about it."

They wouldn't be talking about it if it hadn't been haunting him. But he could still feel it; he could still feel her. He could still bloody _taste_ it. And he may have left it if he hadn't seen the blush stain her cheeks. "Kens-"

"Callen."

The quiet use of his name brought him up short. 'Quiet' was not a word generally associated with Kensi Blye. She was passionate almost edgy. Vibrating. Now, she was calm and cool. Odd. But it had him responding differently too. The only sign she gave as to the 'healthy' Kensi was the quick shaky hand she ran through her hair.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

His pride kept him silent.

Her current residual temporary instability had her continuing. "We said we were going to pretend it never happened. And… God, Callen, we work together. We have to ignore it."

Then why didn't he want to? She was right. Very right. But he couldn't let her go. Didn't want to let her go. It was the first time he'd seen her in a week but she'd been on his mind the entire time. And not solely out of concern either. He felt like such a mess sitting here in front of her.

"G, you can't tell me I'm wrong."

"I can tell you I want you to be." He needed her. God, he freaking needed her. Wanted her and needed her.

She was shocked and surprised by his bluntness. It left her heart pattering and her blood heating. "What?"

He dropped back in his chair, running his hand over his head. Then, intense blue met stunned hazel head on. "I want you to be wrong."

Kensi dropped her head into her hands. She'd been trying to put it out of her head and now here he was, throwing it in her face. Or at least keeping it from fleeing.

She'd been trying, in those moments of weakness she allowed herself to think about the kiss, to pull apart her emotions. She didn't want to consider the dependency game, the serious possibility that the kiss had been based on anything but a shadow of emotions and nothing real. Before she went back to work, she'd hoped to be able to chalk it up to irrationality and stress compounded by her panic attacks. She needed to be able to say those emotions were a figment brought on by the support he offered. The head, the emotions, the plain want mixing in her blood now told her all of that thinking had been a pipe dream.

"It's a terrible idea," she pointed out.

"I'm not arguing that. Doesn't change the fact that I can't get it out of my head," he responded. He leaned forward again. "It's not just me."

She huffed out a heavy breath. "No, dammit. It's not."

Callen searched her gaze. "I don't know what to do."

"I don't eve know where to start," she admitted.

Personally, he didn't either. Professionally, there was another reason he'd come to see her. And it seemed as good a time as any to deal with it. They needed to step back, to think and consider. They needed a distraction.

"We start with Spindell."

* * *

_It's surprisingly difficult to make Callen human. Which sounds mean and I don't mean it that way, but to give him real emotions and a half decent reaction to things that bother him is odd. Mostly because we don't really see how he thinks. And he does a lot of thinking. Then he just acts and we don't get any real insight into his thought processes. So I made some up. _

_Spelling, grammar, typos? Totally mine. I've tried to keep it as fluid as possible but I've taken some time away from this. On the bright side, the next chapter is mostly handwritten. I have to type it yet and I'm heading away to a cottage for a week, but I'll get it up ASAP. Because I'm totally excited for it too. _

_And we'll deal with how Kensi's doing soon. I promise. And I also promise ignoring how she's really doing was deliberate on my part. _

_Yay!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Fielding the Curve Ball

. . . . .

Kensi felt like she was stepping into a lion's den. For one thing, she was unprepared. She was unfamiliar with the man she was about to face. Most importantly, however, she wasn't sure she was ready to return in any capacity, much less straight into an interrogation.

Still, she mustered a smile for Sam and Deeks as she stepped into the boatshed.

"The prodigal agent returns."

It was the absolute affection with which Sam delivered the teasing remark that kept her from shoving a knee into his groin. She offered him a flash of a smile, knowing Deeks was tracking her slightest movement. He wouldn't see a sign of what she'd been going through, what she was still battling. Those signs were buried in her psyche, invisible to the untrained eye. She had a split second, however, before Deeks was hugging her. Sometimes, she forgot how emotional he really was.

"I'm glad you're back."

Kensi offered him the same smile she'd offered Sam. "I'm not yet." She settled a hand on her hip as Deeks released her. "But someone's got to clean up after you guys."

It was only an echo of her usual sass, but Sam, Deeks and even Callen grinned. She felt some of her nerves settle.

"You ready for this?" Sam inquired.

She tamped down the flash of irritation that shot through her when Sam darted a glance to Callen. "Mostly." She met his eyes, hoping through that one gaze she could get him to trust her. "Fill me in."

* * *

Alex Spindell was tired of this bullshit.

For five days they'd kept him in a damn bare room with a dirty, dingy window on the harbour. They'd take turns, the three men, asking him variations on the same questions. About a murder.

As if he was part of that game.

God, even he had standards.

He didn't do murder. Just because he did more than his fair share of shady dealings didn't mean he necessarily had a taste for blood. Money, hell yes, but not blood. He had people who took care of that kind of thing.

And he certainly would not have approved killing Mary-Beth.

She was something different. Had been from the start. She wasn't shy or quiet, but strong, resilient and entirely unexpected. She'd blindsided him and he'd never looked back. He's ripped his office to shreds when he'd found out about her death, then overpaid his maid to clean up the mess.

He'd loved her.

And some bastard had taken her.

The door clicked and Alex adopted a casually bored look. "I have nothing to say to you."

The amused snort, however, caught his attention. It was definitely female. And the figure that slid into the chair across from him was unmistakably the same. She smirked.

"Kensi Blye."

"You a shrink?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nope. Agent."

Damn shame, that. Alex went back to studying his hands.

Kensi watched him, considering. They'd crafted a plan before she'd stepped through the doorway. A solid one, but a repetitive one. The same plan the boys had been going with. Hammer at him until he breaks. But looking at the man seated across from her, Kensi realized that maybe it wasn't the right tactic. Adapting, improvising and a damned good gut instinct were job requirements. As she mentally retraced the file Callen had given her in the car, she called on all three.

Then she spoke. "I want to talk about Mary-Beth."

Alex looked up, but kept his mouth in a firm line.

Kensi paused, studying him. Then said, "I don't think you killed her."

He rolled his eyes. If she hadn't been the first one to say it in a week of interviews, he might have believed her.

"Your file says wheeler and dealer. Not killer."

"I am a businessman. Murder is not conducive for business," he finally fumbled out.

Kensi could see he truly believed that.

"I merely asked for problems to be…" Alex waved a hand airily. "Taken care of."

And never asked for the details, Kensi concluded. "Mary-Beth wasn't a problem?"

"No."

He said it so emphatically that she couldn't stop the slight rising of her eyebrows. After a moment of studying him, she folded her hands on the table in front of her. "You loved her."

"It's not uncommon," he said defensively.

Oh, she was well aware of that. Arms dealers, no matter how cruel, had needs too. And emotions.

"She was in the military."

"The heart wants what the heart wants, Agent."

Great, a romantic. But it was an angle she could play. "Did she find out?"

"Mary-Beth knew what I wanted her to know. She wasn't proficient with numbers, so she never asked questions. She knew I was a businessman. That was all." And he wouldn't cop to what kind of business, regardless of how often they told him they had him cold on weapons and smuggling.

"You didn't feel the need to check on her? Look her up? Records?"

Alex smiled wryly. "Even loving her there were some risks I was not willing to take."

"She followed you from LA."

"I believe they call that commitment."

Kensi gave him that one. "Did you ever believe she may have found out? Double-crossed you?"

"I always suspected," he admitted and wanted to curse himself for how easily this federal agent made talking. But he hadn't admitted to anything concrete, he reminded himself, nothing that could permanently hang the charges. "You always suspect."

"But you couldn't confirm it."

"As long as she was with me, I didn't want to confirm it. Naïve, but true. She knew."

Kensi's mouth quirked. In another universe, she may have liked Alex Spindell. Maybe even dated him. Assuming there was no Callen in that alternate universe.

Where the hell had _that_ come from?

_Focus Blye_.

"According to her brother she was working with JAG to nail you to the wall. Did a good job too."

The angry tempter of betrayal was only softened by utter confusion. "Her brother?"

"Half-brother," Kensi replied, watching carefully. "You never got to Family 101?"

"Mary-Beth only has sisters."

Kensi's brow knit. "What?"

"Mary-Beth told me when we met she only had sisters. Her family history doesn't show brothers."

Kensi's blood ran cold.

If Trevor Eriksson wasn't Freund's brother, than who the hell was he?

* * *

"He's supremely backstopped," Eric said as they stepped into the Ops Center.

Kensi, Callen, Sam and Deeks spread around the table as Eric threw things up on the screen.

"We're running facial recognition," Nell offered, "But his CO said he was clean. Showed up with the right papers and the right answers."

"He's done it before," Sam murmured.

The door hissed open quietly, and none of them were surprised to hear Hetty's voice. "Miss Jones. Try looking into JAG transfers in all of our files that match the cities where the victims were found. Start six months before the first was killed."

Nell nodded once, then got to work.

"You think he made it all up," Callen said. "Trevor Eriksson."

"He's good," Deeks offered.

"Why didn't we see it before?" Kensi growled. She hated being taken off guard on a good day.

"Because we had no reason to suspect him, no reason to think he was anythin' more than a very helpful witness. He had her code," Sam said.

"She thought the op was real," Callen murmured. "She had every reason to write in code and every reason to give her handler the key to decoding it."

"He duped her," Kensi agreed.

"He's got a history of it," Eric interrupted with enough glee in his voice to make them all both excited and nervous. With a flourish, he flashed a handful of pictures on the screen. "Trevor Eriksson, aka Myron Barnes, aka Jacobi Schneider, aka, aka, aka."

"Scam artist," Sam spoke up.

"His info on Trevor Eriksson is pretty good, but since I knew what I was looking for I went deeper. Trevor Eriksson's uploads are all time stamped, embedded in the file. And, brilliant computer whiz that I am-"

"Cut the techo jargon, Eric," Callen suggested blandly.

"Trevor Eriksson's only existed for a month. But he's a _genius_ with a computer. I didn't notice it in the first scan because there was nothing to notice. We had no reason to look past the beginning."

"Like I said," Deeks began, "He's good."

Kensi was smiling. "Eric's better."

"Find him," Callen ordered. "Find him, Eric."

The tech guru nodded once. "On it."

"CO said he knew the guy," Sam pointed out. "Talked like they went back to the dinosaur days."

"CO's in on it. Maybe a cut, maybe the glory, maybe the hunt. Maybe it's Eriksson, or whatever his name is, covering his ass," Kensi replied. It felt good to be back. It felt normal to be back. It made her optimistic. And twitchy. She wanted to be out there, running leads, watching criminals, hunting killers. It was what she did. It was in her blood.

It was home.

It was the best she'd felt in a month and a half.

Of course, that didn't answer the question as to whether or not she was fit to be back in the field. But she didn't feel stifled and though she knew there was adrenaline in her system, it wasn't overpowering. It wasn't causing panic.

She'd been wondering if it was time to return to the work. She loved it. Most of the time. And many would say she was born for it. It was in her blood, just as much a part of her as it was… as it was a part of Callen. As it was a part of any of them. The work they did, the things they saw, the constant hiding… it worked better for people who didn't have too many ties. None of them had many ties.

Except, Kensi had long ago realized, to each other.

They were a team, a family. They pretended they didn't need each other, pretended that they had lives out side of the team, Sam notwithstanding because Kensi _knew_ he actually had a life, but when it came right down to it, they'd be lost if they didn't have each other. Kensi would have lost it long ago if not for Callen and Sam. They kept each other in the game and kept each other balanced. It was why they made such a fantastic team.

It was why, no matter how hard one tried to pull away, there was always someone to bring them back.

Their little family was too important to mess with. They _didn't _mess with their family. So when someone threatened them, when something threatened them, they all fought. They fought tooth and nail to keep the family together. They depended on each other.

Kensi caught Callen's eye, the questioning raise of his brow. Yeah. She was fine. She offered him a brief nod in response.

"Deeks, Kensi, take the family. Ask them if they know the guy, if they've seen him before, everything. Sam, you and I are taking on JAG," Callen ordered, already moving towards the door.

"I hate lawyers," Sam grumbled.

Callen ignored him. "Nell, Eric. Facial recognition. I want to know if Eriksson so much as sneezed on a street corner in the last week."

"You got it," Eric responded.

Kensi grinned, wide and genuine. Deeks shot her an eyebrow as they fell into step.

She shook her head slightly. "It's just good to be home."

* * *

_I don't know why, but I really liked the idea of the arms dealer and formal speech patterns. In my head, he's almost British. Even though he's actually not. And bonus points if you recognize the reference here._

_PS: I don't speak anywhere near computer speak. So I made some of it up and I fully admit to that. I have no idea if you can actually tell the date of upload or if you can tell when a file was created when it's already there, etc. Just, you know, so you know I'm making it up. _

_And one last thing that's more important than any other things I've written for a while. Well, for author's notes versions anyway. For the readers and reviewers... I've been writing for almost 10 years. Or have been. I never remember because I'm never sure what to count as my first writing step. But the point is this: when I write something new, there's always a high level of anxiety. The questions of whether or not people will like it, believe it, etc. And that's no different here. It's been a bit of a battle because the go-to pairing is Deeks and Kensi. So it takes a bit of brain power. _

_My point, in all that rambling, is this: you guys are fantastic. The level of reviews for as many chapters as I've written is awesome and I appreciate the feedback more than I can type. There just aren't words for the rush of a review, be it good or constructive. I do want to give a specific shout out to gwasshoppa and TwilightPony21 who have helped me battle through a lot of the nasty pieces of this particular ride. You guys have kept me grounded and aware of the things I do need to remember to address. _

_But, to all of you that have enjoyed the ride thus far, thank you. Seriously, and with every piece of my writing heart and soul, thank you.  
_


	13. Chapter 13

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Settling

. . . . .

If there was one thing that drove Kensi more than a little bit batty, it was the knowledge that a criminal came from unassuming roots. The Freunds were LA natives and it was the military that had moved their daughter around. The house they'd owned for almost forty years was neatly kept and came complete with a plastic swing for toddlers and an old-fashioned wooden one in the tree out front. The house itself was a cheerful pale yellow and the gardens were lush and green. But both Deeks and Kensi knew the warm and cheery front could hide dark secrets.

"They're a nice family," Deeks said quietly as they pulled up to the curb. "Three grandkids."

He'd done the notification, the first brush with the victim's family, so Kensi believed him. But there was something they needed to clear up before they stepped in the house. As he came around from the driver's side, she reached out and put a hand on his chest, stopping him dead. She looked up at him. "Do you trust me?"

"What kind of question is that?" But his question came out without any sarcastic bite.

"A legitimate one," she shot back. "You've been treating me with kid gloves every since I stepped into the boathouse."

"You? Kid gloves?"

Kensi rolled her eyes. "Deeks."

He blew out a heavy puff of air. "So what if I have?"

"I get why," she answered, in actuality ignoring his question. "But I don't need it."

"Kens."

"I don't," she repeated, this time more firmly. "I'm okay." Mostly. "So I need to walk in here knowing you trust that I've got your back and won't panic."

Deeks watched her for a moment, searching clear hazel eyes. There wasn't a single indication that something was off. Her gaze was sharp, solid. Kensi. There was no trace or vulnerability or even an inkling of fear or depression. Just confidence. And before he could stop himself he'd yanked her into a tight hug.

"I trust you to _always_ have my back."

Both of them pretended it was all normal.

Kensi was grinning when he eventually released her. "Good. Sam and I don't really work as partners."

"And Callen?"

There was something seriously wrong when just his name evoked shivers down her spine. Or maybe it was something seriously right. "Callen and I as partners isn't a good idea."

"Because you're in love with him."

"I'm not in love with him." Yet. Maybe yet. Maybe someday.

"But you like him."

Kensi rolled her eyes before turning away and starting up the path. "I like apple pie." She didn't, but that was beside the point.

"Apple pie doesn't get snappy when you go over his head and disappear for a week."

"We are talking about the same guy, right?" Kensi inquired trying to shrug off the implication.

"I thought we were talking about apple pie." He shot her a cheeky grin as he pressed the doorbell. Then he sobered. "He cares about you. And when you care about someone and they disappear for a week, you get worried."

Kensi had a split second to wonder if they were even talking about Callen any more before a petite blond opened the door. The curly hair was a dead giveaway as to her identity. "Mrs Freund?"

"Yes." She looked to Deeks. "Detective."

"Patricia."

She took a breath. The continuing grief for her child was obvious in every line of her face, every muscle of her body. "Is there news? On Mary-Beth?"

"We have some new leads. This is my partner, Agent Kensi Blye. May we come in?"

It seemed to take her a moment to collect herself. "Of course."

The inside of the house was as well kept as the outside and just as warm. A family lived here. A real one, with unconditional love and unwavering support. Kensi and Deeks settled on a couch in the floral living room. Patricia Freund settled on the love seat across the coffee table.

"What is it? Did you find the person who k-killed my daughter?"

Kensi let Deeks take the lead, if only because he already had a rapport with the woman. She handed him the picture and he slid it across to Patricia.

"Do you recognize this man?"

Patricia picked up the official JAG photo of Trevor Eriksson. "Of course. That's Frankie. Frank Callahan. They're… old family friends." She slid the picture back across the coffee table. "He grew up with my girls."

_Bingo._

Deeks tucked the picture away as Kensi leaned forward. "How well did you know him?"

"As… As long as I can remember." She eyed them. "Frank wouldn't hurt my daughter. He wouldn't touch her."

"Did you know your daughter was working undercover for JAG?" Kensi inquired.

Patricia shook her head. "What's a JAG?" She grasped at the couch cushions. "I don't understand."

Deeks now copied Kensi's lean forward, pulling out the earnest expression that always go panicking witnesses calming down. "Frank told us he was working for military lawyers and your daughter was working with him to build a case against an arms dealer."

"He told us he was Trevor Eriksson," Kensi picked up softly. "He's got a string of other aliases."

"Aliases?"

"Did she ever mention him?" Kensi pushed on. "Did you ever see him? Did he pay any special attention to Mary-Beth, now or in the past?" The more confused she was the more likely she would give honest answers.

"Not that I can – Anja."

That had both Deeks and Kensi's ears twitching.

Patricia was shaking her head. "Anja was – Oh God."

She actually looked green and Kensi was moving before she even realized it, helping the older woman lean forward to put her head between her knees. Deeks moved to the coffee table.

"Anja Yanishevski was Mary-Beth's best friend." Patricia finally managed to spit out. "They were inseparable. But when they joined up, they got assigned different billets. They visited when they could, kept in contact, of course… Anja was a…" She swallowed. "A daughter in her own right. She called from time to time, just to keep in touch. About maybe… A month ago, I guess, she started talking about Frank. She was in Nevada, she'd been there for about a year. I remember her talking about him because I found it odd."

"Odd how?" Kensi asked as Deeks handed the woman a tissue.

"Frank… Always had a thing for my Mary. But it was Anja who had always wanted him. She'd pined. She always asked about him, his family… She was so excited when they started dating." She stood and headed to the mantle, pulling down a picture. She cradled it for a moment before holding it out to them. "Anja and Mary-Beth could have been sisters.

The picture proved that and then some. The girls could have been twins, they looked so similar. Kensi knew Deeks was also making a mental note to take a closer look at the victims' files when they returned to Ops.

Patricia swallowed thickly as she took the picture from Kensi's outstretched hand. "Did he kill them?"

Oh yeah.

"We believe so," Kensi answered. "Do you know where he is?"

"I didn't even know he was back in LA. The last time I saw his parents they said he'd moved to Jacksonville."

And there went another set of bells. Deeks and Kensi exchanged a look before standing. Deeks reached out to the woman. "You have my card."

With quiet goodbyes, they left.

* * *

Sam prided himself on one special talent: his ability to read his partner. Of course, he was a former Navy SEAL, so he had plenty of other abilities to brag about, but when it came down to it, his ability to read and understand his partner topped that. Callen was not an easy person to break into. It had taken Sam endless amounts of patience and an inordinate amount of time to understand not only multiple layers, but the damned armour Callen wore day-to-day.

But that armour was chipping, and, as they drove towards JAG, his temper was sizzling.

"This about Kensi?"

He didn't fault Callen when his head whipped around. Callen still thought he was mysterious, that no one could get into his head. Ha.

"What?"

Sam eased into a turn, watching the jackass that had been sitting in his blindspot for the last mile and a half. "You heard me."

"Is what about Kensi?"

"This dark cloud crap over your head."

Callen's face was bland, but his eyes churned. It was an aberration for his tell to be that obvious. "Kensi's fine."

"Uh huh."

"She is. She can be back in the field." And Callen knew the Freunds posed no threat. She was safe with Deeks. Everything was going to be fine.

Then why the hell was there a bubble of unease in his stomach that was infusing him with the irrational need to be there, just in case?

Sam, of course, knew Kensi's abilities in the field were never really a question. The same way he knew Callen's issue had very little to do with Kensi's abilities as an agent or, really, her well-being. "G. I _know_ she's okay." He focused for a minute as the guy from his blindspot considered cutting him off. "What I want to know is why it's puttin' a skunk up your ass."

"Please," Callen scoffed. "I'm as happy as the rest of you that she's back."

"Uh huh."

"You don't believe me."

"Nope."

"There's nothing going on with me and Kensi," Callen argued.

Sam believed that much. "And who's idea was that?"

Callen looked out the window.

Sam waited fifteen seconds for his partner before speaking. "All you have to do is say yes."

"I tried."

Training and reflexes kept them driving smoothly. "She said 'no'."

"No."

But quite obviously, she hadn't said 'yes' either. And apparently that was irking Callen. "I don't get the problem."

"Jobs."

"Hetty wouldn't be in the middle if the job was a problem."

Callen eyed him. "And how do you know Hetty's involved?"

"She's always involved. And since there's no tension crap that says it's the job, I'm guessin' Hetty's for it."

"Procedure isn't."

"Since when do you give a damn about procedure?"

Since it had the possibility of affecting Kensi's job as much as his. They were born for this work. They couldn't do anything else. He wasn't going to ask her to do something else because his heart beat a little faster when she was around.

"Look, G, there's more to life than the job."

"How incredibly philosophical of you."

Sam rolled his eyes. He understood the habitual walls Callen was throwing up but he didn't get why. He also couldn't understand why, in this one instance, Callen wasn't taking the bull by the horns.

"Sam, look at me. Am I really relationship material?"

Hell no. But then again, Sam knew Kensi. Two incredibly dysfunctional people didn't automatically create something functional. But they didn't automatically create something dysfunctional either. "Don't know if that's your call."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Means you can't just discard her feelings." Sam huffed. "She's got her own thoughts, her own outlook. What if they're not the same as yours?"

Callen was silent for a second. Sam had him there. Was it just his decision? Just hers? He growled to himself before snapping out, "Since when are you the matchmaker?"

And since the retort told Sam he'd landed on a nerve, he went for the light-hearted response and raised his voice three octaves. "She's a good girl. I just want what's best."

Callen's mouth twitched. "I don't need a mother."

"No," Sam agreed as he pulled into the JAG parking lot. "But a girlfriend couldn't hurt." He eased into a spot and felt content that he'd placed the bug firmly in Callen's ear. He kept silent as they headed up the front walk to the glass doors. In fact, it wasn't until they stood in front of Captain Alan McCoy that Sam spoke.

"We're here about Trevor Eriksson."

The captain rubbed his forehead behind the large mahogany desk. "His papers seemed legitimate. He was bound and determined to find the serial killer responsible for the deaths of the enlisted women you guys have been contending with. He convinced me the guy had to be on the west coast by now, and had to be following someone in particular. Said he was pretty sure she was on the west coast too. He had all of your reports and data, all of our information… Everything."

"You had no clue he was a fake?" Callen inquired.

McCoy shook his head. "We checked him. Twice before we okayed the transfer. We were short a man so we knew there was a new one coming in. It fit." He sighed. "He was too good."

Sam fielded that one. "Too good?"

"This damned serial killer's got everyone on edge. Every lawyer wants to prosecute the bastard and every agent wants to get the collar. We can't do anything with what we've got from NCIS. There's nothing concrete to tie someone to the crimes. The closest any one came to an ID came from victim six in Nevada," McCoy explained. "When Eriksson came in, he had all the answers, or at least answers that seemed and sounded plausible. He seemed to put it together faster than even your San Diego counterparts. Now I know why he knew so much."

"You think he's guilty," Sam said.

"I think the insider information he was feeding both of our organization is starting to sound more like experience than inference." He sighed. "He worked hard, but he hasn't been in since you guys had him."

"You didn't list him AWOL," Callen accused.

"With all due respect, agents, in my office, men who worked as diligently and as efficiently as Eriksson, or whatever his name is, aren't the type to be AWOL. He requested leave via e-mail hours after you released him. He claimed your latest victim was his sister."

Callen barely resisted the urge to swear.

Sam stayed characteristically calm. "Any idea where he'd go?"

"Sorry, but no. Not anymore." McCoy sighed. "He duped my whole office. I have no idea which parts of what he said were the truth and which were lies."

"Yeah," Sam agreed as he followed Callen out of the room.

Because the truth of the matter was neither could they.

* * *

_One reviewer asked about pairing choice. No, I'm not changing the pairing. If it's listed as Callen/Kensi that's the way it's staying. I hate switching half way through when it's already listed as a certain pairing through the story info part of the site. This still has Callen and Kensi as the characters and it'll stay that way until I see this badboy through. My comment was more to how difficult it can be to deal with the characters, etc because the show is taking such a different path. _

_My apologies for typos, errors and the like. I did not read this over any where near as well as I should have. _


	14. Chapter 14

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

It's Still So Confusing

. . . . .

Kensi had very few options when it came to entertaining herself during the 'waiting game'. For that was what their case had become. With all of the necessary information in Eric's very capable hands, the agents were left to entertain themselves as they saw fit until Eric could work his magic. For Kensi, paperwork was out of the question. Her week of leave left her with substantially less than her male counterparts, and Angry Birds was only fun if there was something to procrastinate on. She wasn't in the mood for sparring or training and she had no one to play paper basketball with. Not that she would honestly choose paper basketball.

So, she took to what she'd been starting to refer to has 'her' corner of the hacienda. Her conversation with Callen was meshing alarmingly with her discussion with Deeks. It was enough to give her the beginnings of a headache. Thankfully, however, her adrenaline stayed level. It was a testament to how much good her week's vacation had been.

But her head didn't feel clear. It felt almost more convoluted than before she'd taken the impromptu leave. Much to her chagrin, she knew exactly what had happened to put her on edge. What she didn't know was whether or not she'd made a decision.

That was where Callen found her. She looked, less… lonely, he decided, less confused and sad. But she didn't seem less conflicted. "You look… better." Gorgeous.

She turned her head, flashed him a smile. "I feel better,"

"But?" He stepped towards her, but stayed out of reach. When had she become such a temptation?

Kensi considered. Was she really ready to finish the conversation they'd deliberately left open-ended? "Something still feels… unsettled."

Since she'd turned to face him, he chanced a step closer. He felt like a hunter. His prey, however, was anything but weak and docile. "Unsettled?"

"Unfinished," she replied, wrapping an arm across her stomach.

"Deliberately," Callen pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are we ready to finish it?"

God, she still didn't know! She dropped her head back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut with the weight of the decision. She'd started the conversation this time.

Callen stepped in. He was close enough to smell her, to feel her heat. And he remembered her kiss. He wanted it again, damnit , and she was close enough, he'd stepped close enough, to intensify his yearning. Callen wasn't a 'yearner'. When her eyes opened, he met them.

"I don't know," she breathed. Her eyes left his, quick as a blink. It was a glance to his lips before refocusing on his gaze. "I…"

Callen felt his heart race. There was something thrilling about making Kensi nervous, something electrifying about knocking her off of her game.

"God, G, you know how many ways this could go very, _very _wrong."

He didn't need her to quote them. Hell, he didn't want her to quote them, though the comment had really been a statement. Callen knew he should care. Everything about him said it would never work. Hell, everything about her said it wouldn't work. So why the hell didn't he give a rat's ass about any of it? What was it about Kensi? He didn't need anyone, he never had. But he needed _her_. He wanted her and he needed her. Right now, it was that simple. It made his next decision for him.

By the time Kensi realized he was leaning in, his mouth was already on hers. Her body sagged against the wall before his hands caught her waist. When she steadied herself, her body was on fire. She responded to Callen's hot kiss with her own strength. She released a low sound when he didn't hesitate to slide a hand beneath her shirt. His fingers tensed against the smooth skin of her back in reaction. Hers trailed up his arms, over strong biceps she'd admired more than once. When the kiss slowed, Callen slid his hand down to the waistband of her jeans. She shivered as his fingers brushed along the denim.

Kensi sighed and leaned back against the wall, arching her back so she didn't trap his hands between her and the wall. Her blood was singing. She felt Callen's hand slide out from beneath her shirt to cup her hips and a smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. Heat like that put forward and excellent argument.

"Callen-"

He squeezed her hips, stopping her words in her throat. She swallowed convulsively, and Callen followed the clench and release of the muscles.

And then it just came out.

"I need you, Kensi."

Her eyes widened, eyebrows rising in surprise. "You don't need anyone."

He didn't bother to argue the point, but he kept her pinned to the wall with his arms around her. Not that he believed she wanted to go anywhere. "I know." He made sure to fix his eyes on hers. "I know I've done everything to make people believe it."

Now she was curious. And she let it show.

His stomach was churning, his heart in his throat. The last time he'd been this nervous he'd been on his first undercover assignment. And this was _Kensi_.

"Hetty… Hetty's been telling me every one needs someone. I've grown up without… without." He adjusted his grip, then, uncomfortable with the change, returned his hands to the comfortable curve of her hips. His eyes never left hers. "I believed I didn't. Jesus, Kens, you snuck up on me. Needing you snuck up on me. I didn't expect it. I'm not sure I wanted to."

Kensi was listening to every syllable that came out of Callen's mouth, but the complete silence came more from utter shock.

"But I'm not ready to pretend you don't matter, either. I don't want to pretend that I don't care and that I don't like… That I don't like you." This time, he did shift his grip, but only because if he stayed that close he wasn't going to finish what he'd decided to say. If he stopped now, he wasn't sure he'd ever say it again. He wanted to say it, and he wanted her to hear it.

It was instinct for Kensi to weave her fingers with his as he removed her arms from around his neck. She squeezed them slightly, curious and anxious. This was the most open Kensi had ever seen Callen in their history.

"You're right. There's so much to lose. So much. But what if the stuff we gain is better?"

"We're trained not to think in 'what ifs'," she managed to whisper over the lump in her throat.

"Then we jump."

The blunt conviction had her stomach doing pleasant somersaults. But there was one thing she knew he wouldn't have considered. "What if you're just my anchor?"

"Your what?"

"Anchor," she repeated, adjusting her grip because she really wanted to fidget. "What if everything I'm… I'm feeling is just a mirage brought on by my panic attacks?"

"I don't follow."

Kensi broke the eye contact they'd been holding since the beginning. This vulnerability was hers and hers alone and she wasn't ready to share it. She fixed her eyes on the middle of his chest. "You're the first person in a very long time to see me lose it like that. You kept me calm, you kept me focused, you kept my eye on the coal without coddling me. Everything was normal. Except it wasn't and… I can't risk this over something that might not be genuine."

He considered her carefully, took in her continued refusal to meet his gaze. He wanted to tuck his fingers beneath her chin, to force her to look at him, but he didn't want to release her hands to facilitate it. He didn't want to give her the excuse to run. "Do you want it to be genuine?"

She rolled her head, dropping it back before forcing herself to meet his gaze. She liked the idea of having someone who trusted her so completely and didn't decide to cocoon her when she was having a rough time. He wasn't afraid, or threatened by what she did, what she could do, what she had done. He didn't pity her, just…. Dealt with her. "Yes."

His heart leapt.

"But what if it's not?"

He wasn't one to throw caution to the wind, especially when the wind never carried him where he was supposed to go. He had abandonment issues, not that anyone directly called them that, and trust issues and…

But so did she.

"What if it is?"

"Callen," she sighed out on a heavy breath. "Work, us, our issues… Boom."

"Or…" He wasn't going to voice it. God, he could barely think it._ Forever_.

"Neither of us can make promises," she whispered. "Neither of us can…" Her eyes fluttered closed. "Callen, we barely trust."

"We trust each other."

That brought a slight smile to her face. "We're not getting much of a choice."

"There's always a choice," he countered.

"Ours is work related."

"The minute you told me about your father, about your… about Jack, about things with Dom… It stopped being just work related." He could wear her down, he knew it. He could persuade her of his side of the argument. Hell, he needed to.

Kensi sagged against the wall. She had trusted him before. She trusted him now. She _liked_ trusting him, needing him, having him around. She liked the idea of kissing him, holding him and more importantly, she liked the idea of him holding her. She searched his gaze. "You want this."

"You're not sure." Still, he eased closer once again, pressing her into the wall. Despite his general dislike of impulsive decisions, he knew his gut wasn't something to ignore. And his gut, paradoxically to statistics, reports and _everything_ told him this could work. They could make this work.

"if we start this," she whispered as he leaned in, brushing their noses sweetly, accidentally. She knew what was coming, knew what he wanted to do. She wasn't going to stop him. "Callen."

He paused less than a breath from her mouth, her name almost a sigh. "Kensi."

"If we start this, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

"I don't want you to stop." In fact, he was asking her to dive in right alongside him, with him.

Together.

"Callen."

He searched mismatched eyes for the slightest hint that this wasn't what she wanted. "Jump, Kensi."

So she kissed him, wrapped her arms around him, and forced herself to let go, at least for the moment, all the fear and worry churning her gut. She blocked out everything but the way his hand returned to her hip while the other cupped her neck, holding her to him and responding to his kiss with fierce passion.

"Give me until after the case," she whispered when they pulled apart. "I'll make a decision after this case."

He couldn't deny her. "I don't like it."

"Callen." There was a scold in her voice, exasperation and frustration.

"I don't," he repeated, this time allowing his thumb to sneak around and brush against her lower lip. It was swollen, red, tempting. His eyes fixed on hers. "After the case."

And neither of them could truly believe the excellent timing of Eric's excited shout. He'd come through again and as adrenaline started to bleed into her blood, Kensi grinned.

It was time to hunt a serial killer.

* * *

_This was shorter, but an epic battle. I need to stop having those. Funny enough, it means no Sims because it zaps my creativity. Not a shock, but odd. Maybe I should force someone to hide my game discs again. It's rather effective. _

_Though admittedly, it feels repetitive and circular. Coincidentally, that may be the point, but I'm stupid tired (don't ask) and I don't feel like overanalyzing the tone I'd wanted to set in the chapter. There is a certain convenience to it though, because Kensi is still rather confused. Eh, better stop before I break my brain.  
_

_Sad news. Or not sad news. I don't know. But either way, I think the next one is the last chapter. It depends on how the wrap up goes in terms of the case, but from the way it looks to me, there's nothing else to address. Kind of. I don't want to go into detail and spoil it. Just know that there's one more. _

_There is one more thing before I sign off. I like reviews. We all like reviews. If we post here, we like reviews. It's an addiction. But I don't actually keep track of my review counts all the time. Some I do, some stories I do. This was not one of them. I was looking, today, at a different story that I somehow manage to not get reviews for in my inbox (literally THE ONLY story that doesn't come through) and I happened to glance at this one… there's more than 200 reviews! It's a testament to your patience, let me tell you. _

_So thank you. Because in all honesty, going into this, I didn't expect half as many reviews as I've ended up with. I am inordinately happy with how much you guys are enjoying it, especially considering the struggle a lot of these chapters have been to get the voices right. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart and soul, for being awesome. I can be awesome (sometimes), because you guys are awesome (all the time). _


	15. Chapter 15

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Tie Up

. . . . .

Eric looked both frustrated and triumphant when Kensi and Callen entered the technological heart of OSP's operations. He didn't acknowledge the simultaneous entrance. Sam and Deeks did. Sam contained it to a knowing twitch at the corner of his mouth. Deeks raised a very visible eyebrow. Kensi resolutely ignored the detective's significant look as she settled beside Sam, leaning against the table. She didn't acknowledge Callen as he echoed her position to the left, a little closer than was probably proprietary.

Eric typed a few things into the handheld. "Frank Callahan's _real_ parents are Rosemary and Bob Callahan. And unlike the fictional Beverly and John Eriksson, are not so clean."

"They made their living through cons, scams and forged documents," Nell picked up. "Seems Callahan's skills were genetic."

"We connected Callahan to Spindell, by the way. Turns out one of the cleaners Spindell routinely employs set the fire that killed Rosemary and Bob Callahan," Eric revealed.

"He'd have the connections to know that," Deeks said, eyes floating over the information in front of them.

"Took his parents _and_ his girl?" Sam inquired. "I'd be pissed."

"Okay, we've made sense of the Spindell connection," Kensi said, voice strong, eyes sharp. "Where is he?"

"Santa Monica," Eric replied as he and Nell both swung back to face the massive main screen. "On vacation."

"He charged the credit card of Brett Perez, one of the aliases we've connected to him," Nell continued as Eric seamlessly passed her the portable. "Suite 412 of the Viceroy Santa Monica Beach Hotel."

Callen smirked. "And they say crime doesn't pay."

Kensi wasn't thinking when she shot him a sympathetic look and followed it with a condescending pat to the chest. "That was weak G. Really weak."

She left the whole team, including Callen, grinning.

"Your girl's back," Sam said appreciatively.

Callen didn't bother to correct him.

* * *

Because Callahan had already seen Callen and Kensi, they'd been relegated to posts outside of the Viceroy. They'd decided four floors would not be a difficult jump if Callahan decided to rabbit and thus, would wait for him to emerge and head out for the day. Deeks and Sam both had posts inside the lobby, the latter lounging in the small seating area to the right of the front desks and the former leaning against the door. Kensi sat with headphones in, connected to their wire, looking to all the world like she was simply enjoying the beautiful Santa Monica sun. Except, of course, for the piece digging into her lower vertebrae. She could see Callen from where she sat, sipping coffee from a café down the street.

"This coffee is crap for the price. Who charges six bucks for a cup of crappy coffee?" he grumbled over the wire.

"You drink too much of it as it is," came Sam's responding murmur. "Caffeine gives you ulcers."

"You give me ulcers," Callen replied.

Kensi chewed the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

"Nothing beats the boatshed," came Deeks' entrance into the argument. "That stuff is worse than _any_ LAPD precinct I've had the pleasure of frequenting."

"No one replaces the boatshed coffee," Callen shot back.

"I do," Kensi pitched in. "All the time. From the convenience store down the street."

"Well there's the first problem," Deeks whined.

"I've got eyes on Callahan."

And with Sam's simple words, everyone was on edge. Banter stopped as they waited.

Inside, Sam stood, aware Deeks' eyes were watching his approach. The ex-SEAL sent a glance the detective's way, checking lines and trajectories before speaking.

"Brett Perez?"

Across the room, Deeks saw Callahan stiffen. Since he and Sam had yet to meet the illusive Callahan, they'd decided that they'd let him play out his little con. Until he started to run. Then all bets were off. Deeks was hoping the man would run.

"C-Can I help you?"

"Peter Weller. Were you aware, Mister Perez, that you've been a victim of identity theft?"

"Identity – what?"

Callen and Kensi were both smirking outside. Frank Callahan had stolen Brett Perez' identity first.

"Identity theft, sir. If you'll just step over here –"

Deeks saw it in freeze frame. Callahan's hand dropped the duffle at the same time his hand came out to shove at Sam's chest. Being a big man, Sam wasn't usually on the receiving end of passive physical attacks and despite his ready position, the weak shove surprised him enough to slow his reflexes for a split second. That split second was enough time for Callahan to take off towards the front door.

"LAPD! Freeze!" And then Deeks got the bad side of karma as a group of chattering woman chose that moment to spin through the front door of the hotel, cutting Deeks off. It was enough to allow Callahan to slip out.

Where he met the business end of Kensi's pistol. Her eyes were dark, determined and she knew Callen was just to her left, there for backup. Her mouth twitched.

"NCIS," she said, calm and centered. Back in the game. "And my trigger finger's itching."

Callahan looked ready to bolt, but before he could, Sam was on him, wrestling the man to the ground.

She blew out a breath as she holstered her gun. She darted a glance up a Callen's smirking face. "Know what?" she said as Sam pulled Callahan to standing. "I really, _really_ hate JAG lawyers."

"Itchy trigger finger? And you called me weak," Callen shot back.

Kensi just rolled her eyes.

* * *

"He hasn't asked for a lawyer," Callen murmured, leaning against the table in the boatshed. They were watching Callahan, sitting calmly, eyes fixed forward.

Kensi was perched on the table next to him, swinging her legs. It was childish, but it was also just plain fun. Considering how well everything had gone in their day, she decided she was allowed a childish moment. Or two. Or lots. She didn't feel bad about it.

"He's too arrogant to think we've got anything on him," she said.

"He did it," Deeks agreed. "He totally did it."

"We can't prove it," Sam pointed out. His arms stayed folded over his chest. "We can't tie him to anyone."

"Yet," Kensi replied cheerfully. "We need Eric and forensics to come through."

"They will," Deeks said confidently.

"You think he's arrogant enough to leave something lying around?" Callen inquired.

"Oh hell yeah," Deeks agreed.

Eric's head popped up, the screen in front of them automatically splitting to allow for them to see Callahan and the tech. "We've connected Callahan to Spindell."

"We're listening," Callen replied, folding his arms.

"Callahan's real parents were killed in a housefire. They connected the MO back to Westley Aarow who, take a guess?"

"Is one of Spindell's cleaners," Kensi answered.

"Gold star for Kensi," Eric agreed. "We're still running his alias against everything we can find for the other cities, but we've already hit the jackpot on LA."

Nell appeared above Eric's shoulder and triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Turns out Brett Perez was staying in the same hotel where Mary-Beth Freund was killed." She wrinkled her nose. "It's not a perfect solid tie, but we're still wading through security footage."

They had a lot to do, and really, it was a miracle they'd come that far considering. Callahan had a lot of aliases and to tie any one of them to the cities and the crimes was going to take some time. And that didn't even touch on the lab results. Once they got his DNA of course, and assuming he'd left some behind.

God, this was starting to really suck.

Kensi looked to Callen, knowing the mood of the room. They were going to have to break him and they were going to have to do it with what amounted to absolutely no evidence. Well, they weren't OSP agents because they were pretty. Callen tipped his head, the question obvious. Kensi glanced back at Deeks and Sam and, seeing no argument in either of them, nodded. She and Callen would go in. Deeks and Sam would watch.

She pushed herself off the table, following Callen to the door of the interrogation room. Callahan's head came up as they entered, but he managed to keep his face impassive.

"Agents Callen and Blye," Callen began. "But you knew that."

Callahan kept quiet.

"So who are you?" Callen always played the aggressor. He was an alpha male and unless Sam was in the room, it was generally the role he played. Kensi didn't mind.

Callen leaned on the table. "We've traced you to six different identities. Six. And you introduced yourself to us as Trevor Eriksson."

Kensi slipped into the chair across from Callahan, watching him with sober eyes.

"I work for JAG. I have enemies. The different names means I can actually live my life."

That was something agents did. Not JAG lawyers.

"Except you're not a JAG lawyer," Callen pushed. "You washed out of the Navy." That much they'd learned from Callahan's record.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" Callen inquired. "Then explain to me why we can't find your name on any cases in the JAG archives. None of your aliases either."

"I don't see the courtroom often."

"You've never seen the inside of a courtroom," Callen countered. "You don't know the first thing about being a JAG lawyer."

Push him. Push him first. Break him on his own arrogance.

"Then how did I make it three months in JAG?"

Kensi's insides danced. The arrogance was showing and it was bright.

"Dumb luck," Callen snapped out. "JAG's looking into it now. It's a big breech."

A smug smile tilted Callahan's mouth.

"But you came for something else. And JAG just helped."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Callahan repeated.

"We're talking about Mary-Beth Freund," Kensi spoke for the first time. She saw the adjustment in his eyes, even though it fled quickly.

"I told you everything I know about her."

"You're good at putting on a guilty face," Callen said conversationally. "Really good. Except we talked to Mrs. Freund and she called you Frank Callahan."

The adjustment came again, this time nervousness instead of irritation and disappointment.

"I don't know who that is."

"She went on to tell Agent Blye here that you're an old family friend. You grew up with Mary-Beth and you sure as hell don't think of her as a sibling," Callen pressed on.

Callahan's mask was dropping. He was cracking. Breaking. And so they would keep pushing. Always pushing. They were close and even Kensi could feel it.

"Why am I here? You were looking for her killer. I'm not her killer."

"No," Callen said. "You did your best to make us think Alex Spindell did."

"The arms dealer she was investigating."

"She wasn't investigating," Kensi said. "Or if she was, she wasn't passing on honest information. She was in love with him. He was in love with her."

"He wasn't in love with her. Psychopaths like him aren't capable of love."

"I talked to him," Kensi said. She was keeping her voice soft, cajoling. She was going for the contrast.

"And he fooled you too!" His hands were clenching on the wooden table. "He's an _arms dealer_. He arms gangs and terrorists, people tearing apart our nation. _And_ he's a serial killer."

"He's not a serial killer, Frank."

Callahan eyes adjusted again. Knowing. "He is. He killed Mary-Beth."

"He didn't," Kensi shook her head. "He actually has a solid alibi for Mary-Beth's murder."

He was plainly visible in the hotel bar at the same time Nell and Eric had found Mary-Beth staggering into the lobby.

"He did it," Callahan said shaking his head. "He paid for someone else to do it."

Kensi shuffled forward somewhat. "You really don't like him do you?"

"He's an arms dealer. No body likes him."

"Mary-Beth did," she reminded him. "Mary-Beth loved him."

"She didn't know him," Callahan shot back immediately.

"You saw her with Spindell," Callen slipped in. "And it pissed you off. Your girl." His hands clenched on the back of Kensi's chair. She felt the heat of his fingers through her t-shirt.

"He... Do you know what he _did_?" Callahan inquired rhetorically, losing control of his composure as they hit him again and again with the woman he loved. "Do you know the kind of people he was involved in? The people he employed? _He killed my parents_."

"So why the hell did he get the one woman you've been after for the _entirety _of your life?" Kensi said passionately. Her mind was reeling

"And she _knew_!" Callahan exploded. "She _knew_ what he was doing! And she _refused_ to turn him over. She was stalling authorities, passing on false information or no information when she definitely had it and _then_! And then she just… she turned a blind eye to it."

"She wasn't the woman you knew." Kensi's voice was soft. She had her own personal reaction to the whole system. Jack hadn't ever been the same. But she'd still loved him. Very, very much.

"And… she couldn't see. She didn't want to see! He was _killing_ people. Because he could, because he had an empire to support. An _empire_! And it's not even a legal one."

"When did you find out she was seeing him?"

"I spent a summer in Millington," Callahan replied off-handedly, and Kensi didn't have to check to know Sam and Deeks would be checking the confession against the murder there. Maybe they'd get lucky.

Callahan leaned forward. "I was going to make her see, that's all. I was just going to make her see."

"How?" Callen asked, and the way Callahan jumped made both of the agents wonder if he'd forgotten Callen was in the room.

"Just talk. I was going to make him confess to her."

"How did you get to him?" Kensi asked. Her job had suddenly become to keep him focused on her, see her as someone who just wanted to hear his story. It wasn't about the agents or the confession – and despite his ability to become _anyone_, Callen was the consummate agent – but about seeing her as someone who could understand what he was going through, what he'd gone through.

"I had her cell phone. I looked up his number."

"And you made her call him." Kensi kept her voice quiet, unthreatening and unchallenging. "Told her to ask him to come to the hotel so you could ask."

"He did. He was _there_."

"He didn't confess did he," Callen said. "He told you he was a businessman."

"She knew," Callahan said. "Mary-Beth _knew_. She's not an idiot. But she refused to believe me. Refused to go with her gut. And she wouldn't push him! She wouldn't ask the right questions, wouldn't make him give the right answers!" His head dropped. "He left. She made him leave and then she told me to butt out. To _butt out_! She's sleeping with an arms dealer and _I'm _the one that's out of line."

"You got mad," Kensi said. "You got mad because you love her and she loved someone responsible for so much blood, violence and death."

"She wouldn't listen."

They had him on the ropes if the pain in his voice was any indication.

"What happened?" Kensi coaxed. "Did she walk out?"

"She did, didn't she," Callen said from behind her. "She walked out. But you couldn't let her do it. You couldn't let her walk away again, to make a mistake like loving Spindell. So you went after her. Except she still wouldn't listen."

"You didn't mean to stab her," Kensi picked up, knowing even as she said it that it wasn't true. He'd stabbed seven other women. Even if rage came over him, there was nothing accidental about Mary-Beth's death. But they could prove that later. Right now they wanted him to confess to killing her. Then they could worry about the seven other murders he'd committeed.

"No. I didn't." Callahan said and there was a calculating gleam in his eye. "I didn't mean to kill her."

Callen and Kensi didn't wait, just stood up and walked out.

"He calculated that. Take the hit on this one, they can't connect me to the ruthless stabbings of every one else," Deeks said when Kensi and Callen were back in the main room of the boatshed.

Kensi sighed. It was unsatisfying. Very unsatisfying.

"But it'll get us any warrant we want," Callen said and there was angry passion in his voice. Careful calculation was never something Callen was impressed with. "We'll upend his entire life until we can nail him for seven murders." His eyes glinted and Kensi tried not to shiver. "No stone unturned."

Period.

* * *

_So, funny story that's not really a funny story? It's _very_ hard to write the end of the case when you've set up minimal forensic evidence. Of course, with the problems I've had with this, it's changed about four or five times over the course of what will be 16 chapters. So, I got a little distracted. Or… maybe discombobulated is the right word. Either way, not as much fun when you discover you don't have any physical evidence to tie the guy to the crime. It took a lot of mental work to get to the point where I could write this. _

_But it got written and 16 is definitely started so I'm hoping to put it up before I move. If not, it'll be up early next week. And then we'll be done, which considering my school is starting back up and I've got a thesis to write is a good thing. But it's also a bad thing 'cause this is my first foray into NCIS LA and you guys have been so warm in your reception. I sure as heck hope it won't be my last and from what I've heard about the things they have planned for the first half of the new season, that shouldn't be too difficult. _


	16. Chapter 16

_Breaking_

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Biggest Risk

. . . . .

"We got him."

Kensi looked up from that damn window as the sun set over LA. It was a gorgeous picture and she'd put in a long day wading through Frank Callahan's house. The man had tried to cover everything, but he'd made one mistake. He had a house in Culver City in his father's name, and that's where they'd hit the jackpot.

"He definitely kept trophies," Callen told her, coming up beside her. His shoulder brushed hers boldly. There was nothing tentative about the man at her shoulder now. He knew what he wanted and it was painfully obvious to Kensi that what he wanted was her. "Every knife. DNA's matching it now, but it'll do it."

She blew out a breath. "Good."

He stepped closer, his shoulder now pressing against hers. "The case is over."

Oh. Oh that. Oh she knew what he was going for. She had a decision to make. A decision she wasn't sure she was ready to make.

She wasn't exactly the 'dating' type. She had first date game and after that… she closed off. She didn't talk about her issues, she didn't talk about her problems, she didn't do anything that a regular girlfriend would do. She didn't rely on anyone; she fought everything that came characteristically with a relationship.

"It is," she said quietly. She gripped her elbows. "Callen, it's insane."

"Why?"

She pressed back against him subconsciously because regardless of how terrible a relationship with him would be, she couldn't even deny to herself that she needed him. "I'm not a girlfriend girl. And you can't tell me that a relationship between us can be anything less. It _can't_."

"We'd be risking too much."

Relief flooded through her. She didn't have to put it into words, didn't have to try and figure out the right way to say it. "Exactly. It's a lot of pressure. We're friends, we're co-workers and if-"

"If."

"Maybe it's when." She felt his shoulders shake behind her. He was laughing at her, laughing at what she wanted so badly, but wasn't sure she was willing to take.

"How many times have you told me we'll explode?" he asked. He knew all the reasons not to. He could only guess at all the reasons they should. But Callen was a risk taker by nature and this, he knew, could be the biggest one. Ever. He could really only hope it would have equally as big of a payout.

"In the last week?" She sighed. "We have trust issues, we have a job that throws us undercover for months at a time, we have-"

"We see the same things. We do the same things. We understand the importance."

"We're lone wolves," she argued. "We both are. How can we make it work together?"

"Kenz? You're being repetitive."

"I'm trying to make you see!"

He pushed on her shoulder until she turned and stumbled, backing against the wall to keep her balance. "See what?" he asked following her until he was right in front of her, pressed against her. He wanted her to tell him, to his face, why they didn't work. They did. They worked at work and they worked the few times they went out to bars and they were definitely compatible when they had to play couples undercover. To him, now that he'd had the case to watch her, to think about it, it didn't make sense as to why they wouldn't really work.

Kensi sighed. "I can't leave this, Callen. Neither can you. And we're going to have to if this doesn't work."

He leaned forward, into her and lifted a hand to her cheek. Kensi's eyes widened. It wasn't the reaction she'd been expecting.

"I won't leave."

Coming from G Callen, it was a world-altering phrase and Kensi just blinked at him for a moment. Then she breathed, "What?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Kens. I have no plans to go anywhere."

"You're the most nomadic person I know," she managed to get out.

He sighed. Hadn't they gone through this? Hadn't she made a decision? He'd sure as hell hoped so but the way she was fighting him… He was getting discouraged and his heart was beating triple time in his chest. He was afraid of her answer because he was no longer sure it would be in his favour. "I have a _house_ now and there's real furniture in it."

She wanted to believe. God, she wanted to believe. And searching his eyes, his face, the sincerity and the authenticity of the emotion almost made her believe it simply because he did. "You could break my heart."

And he looked her straight in the eye. "You're breaking mine."

She had the power to hurt him, she realized with a shock that actually made her jolt. Somewhere along the line, while she'd been sure he was going to hurt her, that his words were nothing when pushed against the indisputable evidence of his past, she'd missed the power she held.

"If you're going to ask me what changed, I don't have an answer for you. I don't have half of the answers to questions you want to ask. All I have is a freaking _feeling_ that we can do this. That we won't fail spectacularly. And I'm holding onto that, because dammit, Kensi, it's never failed me before." His eyes darted back and forth between hers, looking for any sign that he'd gotten through.

And, it had never failed her. How many times had Callen been right? How many times had she trusted him? How many times had she trusted him with her heart? She was more emotional than Sam and Callen – there was no one more emotional than Deeks – and she didn't hide it as well as they did. Maybe deliberately, maybe she just wasn't as good at it away from the job, but when it came down to it, she talked things out. And she'd often talked things out with Callen. Beyond often.

So what would change? Nothing would change. Not really. She'd still talk to him, she'd still work with him, she'd just… be able to take advantage of him once in a while. And he could take advantage of her. Maybe it would be good for undercovers, to have a built in couple that knew everything they needed to know and more. Maybe it would be easier, simpler, make them a better team.

Maybe it would make them better people. It could, she knew, because her relationship with Jack, even with the little time they'd really had, had changed her. It had been a major influence on the agent she was, and the woman she was, and had made her stronger. Wasn't that a testament to the kinds of positive things that could come out of a solid relationship? Especially a relationship built on the foundation that she and Callen had.

"I don't want to doubt us," she admitted slowly, begging with her eyes for him to just let her talk it out. "I don't want to believe we'll fail. You're important to me, Callen, I care about you. A lot. A scary lot. And I want to say 'yes'. I want to jump into this with both feet and enjoy every minute of it."

"I will not walk away. You have my word. Period."

Kensi took a deep breath. Between his gut and his word, she really didn't have logical reasons to say no. He didn't go back on his word. His gut had never failed. "Good," she said after one last beat to tamp down the fear raging in her blood. Love was terrifying, even the potential of it. "Because I'm not walking away either."

He grinned and kissed her and Kensi didn't seem to care that they were in the hacienda of all places, in front of a window she could probably call 'theirs' about to embark on one of the most thrilling rides of her life. Maybe their lives. And though her heart was racing, she wasn't panicking. As terrifying as the decision was, as absolutely certain she'd been that they wouldn't work, she couldn't deny how good it felt.

Who knew? Maybe at the end of the day, they'd be each other's king's horses and men, and put each other back together again.

* * *

_Huh. When I started this, and gave it the title, "Breaking" was in reference to Kensi breaking. But it kinda, indirectly and without any of my express permission managed to come full circle anyway. And goodness if I know where the last sentence came from. I've been swamped. My educational institution decided to screw me over with six months before my thesis is theoretically supposed to be in. Fun times. _

_Nevertheless, this is finished! But there's a new season and (SPOILER, kinda) they've talked about how much we're learning about both Kensi and Callen, so I won't be ruling out more NCIS LA in my future. _

_Thanks, honestly and truly and from the bottom of my heart to those of you who reviewed and stuck with me through the rollercoaster this turned out to be. I owe special thanks to gwasshoppa who kept me honest and on track. And to TwilightPony21, without whom this probably wouldn't have come to fruition. I owe you for encouraging my NCIS LA insanity. _

_I hope you enjoyed the final chapter and it tied up enough loose ends. _

_KL_


End file.
